I Will Never Abandon
by BrownEyedGirl87
Summary: Washington had no children with his wife Martha, other than the ones from her previous marriage; but there was Lillian, the only child they ever adopted. With war all around, fear and hope colliding, and spies, will Washington's promise to himself be fulfilled that his family and countrymen will live a long, prosperous life? Follow the turn of events through Lillian's eyes.. BenXOC
1. Chapter 1: An Adoption

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of TURN or AMC of course. Only my OC.

A/N: After a while of reading history books and reviewing timelines, I finally began to write this story that's been in my mind since I discovered Turn, a very well made show that quickly became one of my favorites. I hope this story goes as well as I planned, and I don't mean to rewrite history, I'm really not, only letting my imagination fly which is what fanfiction is all about. I apologize in advance it starts off a bit rocky and maybe all over the place, but it'll even out soon. I can always go back and edit.

Please enjoy!

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 _"The constitution is the guide I will never abandon..."_ George Washington exclaims to the Boston Selectmen in 1795.

 _~()~()~()~_

 _Chapter 1:_

Martha and John; the two children of Martha Dandridge Custis and her deceased husband. Widowed, young and lively Martha had no children with her second husband, George Washington, as he thought it his duty as a stepfather to be "generous and attentive." Alongside that, the expensive orders to London merchants during the childhoods of John "Jacky", and Martha "Patsy", reveal doting, caring parents.

Martha Washington was highly indulgent toward her children. Patsy had everything a teenage girl would want in that day—countless clothes, her own piano, a parrot, and dancing lessons. However, by her adolescence, it was plain that Patsy was ill with a sickness that has been haunting her since she was a child.

At 12 years old, little Patsy had asked if she could have a sister, which made her parents curious of her sudden wanting. Even though George thought it his duty as a stepfather to be generous and attentive, it did not mean that he hadn't thought of it, having a child of his own with his wife.

When it became aware that they were unable to conceive children of their own, strong-willed Martha and George adopted a little girl from one of their wealthy friends who had passed on, leaving the girl alone.

"It is fate mother!" Patsy exclaims with an excited whisper as she gets tucked in for the night by her mother, who had told her that she will have a new sister soon. "She belongs with us!"

Martha smiles delightedly before whispering back, "Perhaps she does little one. You best get some rest now my dear or you won't be able to wake up and meet your new sister!" Patsy giggles as her mother ruffles her hair and quickly drifts off to sleep, dreaming of her now bigger family.

~ The next morning~

The orange morning sun cuts across the sky with a few white clouds, looming over the Mount Vernon home as the Washington's stand outside on their large porch looking down the pathway at the slave who was sent to pick up the little girl from a town over. The little girl, sitting behind the slave, hides behind him, half afraid of what her new family will think of her, and the other half excited to have a family to call her own again. The dark slave with a strong build looks over his shoulder at the young girl with a small laugh as they approach the red roofed mansion.

"My girl, there is no need to be afraid. They aren't people you should fear, they will all love you," he says with a strong continental mixed with African accent.

"If you say so," responds the little girl smiling up at him. He gives her a reassuring nod as they make it to the steps of the big white and red house.

The slave jumps off the grey horse and lifts the girl down from the saddle setting her gently on her feet, touching the rocky ground.

Before she could look at the family up closer, yellow cloth takes up her vision as big, warm, womanly arms wrap around her, hugging her. The dark haired woman wearing the yellow dress pulls away from the hug and bends down to her level with a loving smile, reminding her of her deceased mother. _Elegant,_ is what her father always called her mother, and she believed this woman hugging her was elegant as well.

"Hello," the woman says brightly.

"Hello," the girl responds with a shy smile as one of her hands twirls her brown hair, and the other plays with the hem of her blue dress.

"My name is Martha, but you can call me mother," Martha's smile somehow growing bigger. The girl is distracted by the people behind her, who now stand closer to her new mother. Two children, a boy and girl around her age smiling shyly at her, and a very tall man who looks down at her with a thin smile, but a welcoming look in his eyes.

The tall man asks her, "What is your name little one?"

The girl swallows, not realizing she stopped twirling her hair and playing with her dress, "Lillian, sir." She looks at the family in confusion as they all of a sudden let out a laugh, even the tall man who smiles down at her tenderly.

"Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry," Lillian says as Martha shakes her head, letting one more laugh escape from her lips.

"No you did not say anything wrong, darling. You used your manners, and we were surprised that's all," she says. "Our children forget to use their manners sometimes."

"We do too use our manners!" the little boy protests with a scrunch of his nose.

"Yes son," the tall man pats his son's head making the boy smile, pleased with his self. "Lillian, my second daughter, you can call me father, but if you are uncomfortable with saying so you may call me George till then."

"Yes sir. But what about 'sir'?" Lillian asks making George crack another smile with his lips. It almost seemed forced as if he didn't want to show his teeth. She noticed a lot of men do that, at least whenever she sees any men which is hardly ever. She was sheltered by her mother before she passed on as well.

"Sir is fine too, my dear," he responds before looking to his other two children. "Your new brother and sister have been anxious to meet you. This is John and Martha, but they go by Jacky and Patsy sometimes."

"Hello," Lillian says looking at the two of them who both look a lot like their mother, not their father; Patsy has blonde curls while Jacky has darker blonde hair, and her new father, George, has regular brown hair like herself.

"Hi," they both chorus and walk up to her, not so nervous anymore.

"Do you like dolls?" Patsy asks her with eager green eyes.

Lillian smiles brightly, "Yes of course!"

"No not now Patsy, she needs to have a tour of the house and settle in. She is tired from the travel, remember?" Martha tells her other daughter.

"Yes mother. Come," Patsy smiles all the same taking Lillian's hand and leading her up the steps and into the mansion with the rest of the family with them. "We have everything!"

That night, Lillian stayed awake in bed in the room she was sharing with Patsy. She was awake because she was scared of being in a strange house that wasn't her previous home. Well, a castle is what she calls this house if it is one. Castles are beautiful to her, but something about them being ginormous only letting a couple people live there, mostly a king and queen, it seemed empty. This castle wasn't empty at all, however, which made it all the more comfortable. It'll just take some getting used to, being used to her smaller home that she believed she'll never see again.

Not being able to sleep, she travels downstairs quietly and goes to the family room where she had been all of today. It was the only part of the house that she liked so far because it was quiet, and always empty from what Jacky told her, at least until before she arrived.

As she walks down the dark hallway making sure not to walk into anything, she passes by a room with candle light emitting from it. She stops in front of the doorway looking up at the tall door frame thinking this must be her new father's office. Sure enough when she walked in, it had the name George Washington on his desk engraved into a plaque of some sorts, and the whole office was filled to the brim with books and things Lillian hasn't ever seen before.

"Lillian," a man's voice scares her out of her thoughts as she gasps and freezes in place, turning to the book shelf where George is holding a book and looking at her curiously. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

She was quiet, still scared of being in his presence, especially alone, but also ashamed that she was in his office without permission on the first day at her new home.

George sees her discomfort and asks with a raised brow, "Is there something wrong?"

"No sir," Lillian answers finally. "Well yes, I couldn't go to sleep. I meant to go to the family room, but I saw light in here. I'm sorry, sir," she says nervously.

"It's alright Lillian, no harm done. You can stay here with me if you'd like until I go to sleep. You can sit in that chair over there," George says pointing to a big plush looking chair next to his desk.

"Okay, thank you," she says walking slowly, making sure not to touch anything on the way to it.

"You're welcome," George hummed watching her before turning back to his books like nothing happened.

Feeling brave now that he's looking away, she lets her brown eyes wander around his office at all the swords, paintings, papers, and the strange tools she has never seen before.

"How old are you?" George asks now sitting behind his desk with his chosen book and looking at her curiously. "I meant to ask earlier."

"I'm 11, sir," she responds, blushing out of embarrassment that he could have been watching her look around at his personal things.

He nods his head, pleased with that answer, "You're close to Patsy then, she is 12. Jacky is 14."

She nods her head back, and holds his eye contact before he looks away and she turns back to the paintings and weapons.

"Were you in war?" she asks suddenly making George lift his head up fast, not expecting that question at all.

"W-What makes you ask that silly question out of nowhere?" He asks her with pointed eyes.

She still looks around his office as she answers, "You have swords and paintings of people fighting. And you're wearing a uniform in one picture."

"Well, then yes, yes I was. I will go to another one later on in the years if nothing goes as planned," he stumbles over his words at her great observance, and still stunned that she asked her question. He was talking about fighting with a little girl, or his new daughter at that. He shouldn't talk of such things to one so young. "It wasn't necessarily a war, a battle; there is a difference between them. And that painting of me in uniform is only me as a boy doing arithmetic—"

Her head tilts at that unknown word.

"—complicated mathematics. Math," he uses a more understandable term instead making her nod.

"Math was never my favorite," she says playing with the hem of her dress making him chuckle, but no other response.

"The other painting is of my brother. Though we do look similar, he was my half-brother," he said after a while of reading a passage.

"Was?" His head looks up at her, admiring her sharp listening.

"Yes, _was_. I lost him to sickness, tuberculosis they call it," he explains to her.

"My mother died of that too. That's why I'm here now. And my father was in a battle, that's how he died," she says softly looking at her bare feet. Even though George already knew of all of this, having fought alongside her father and Martha having been friends with her mother, he pretended he had just heard it for the first time for her sake. Surely she knew her parents were friends with him and his wife?

"My condolences, Lillian. You shouldn't have gone through that," George says with a warm voice.

"It's alright, everything happens in this world happens at the time God chooses, all for a reason" she trails off before looking at him directly in the eyes now. "Was my question silly, like you said? When I asked if you were in war? I don't think it was because war is nothing silly, it's serious no matter how it's talked about."

George sets his quill down as his mind is being blown away by the second at this quiet little girl who talks of wisdom beyond her years, reminding her of himself in a little way. Her father must've told her some of these things before he left fighting.

He smiles at her as he tries to bring light to their talking, "You're right. I'm sorry, it is not silly. I agree with you. And I like how you said your Bible quote, one of my favorite lines spoken, so true."

"Thank you, you're a smart man," she says falling back into the chair, getting more comfy.

"Thank you," George chuckles once more, this time his eyes have a sparkle in them, as he picks up his quill and laughs at his paper and her cuteness, dare he say it. Some moments later after he starts his letter, and recovers from their serious topic of discussion he talks once more, "You're smart too my dear. Tell me, have you ever been to school?"

Getting no response, he looks from his finished letter and to the chair beside him with Lillian fast asleep, curled up in a fetal position and clutching a pillow.

"Maybe it is time to retire for the night," he says with a smile before blowing out his candles, and lifting his new daughter up in his arms, and carrying her back to her room and tucking her in bed.

He decides to place a goodnight kiss to her forehead, to make her feel more welcomed and comfortable. As he goes out his two daughters' room, shutting the door slowly behind him, Lillian smiles in her sleep. This time she does fall completely asleep, with a heart full of content.


	2. Chapter 2: the Tragedy of Life

_~()~()~()~_

 _"My death has not yet quite arrived, but it is near and inevitable as night follows day..." -George Washington_

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Chapter 2:

Lillian had grown to accept her new name, Lillian Washington, or Lilly, which is what she prefers to be called by those close to her. She also had grown used to her new family who she loves very much like her own, maybe even more. She always shook that thought out of her head whenever she thought of this. She loves both her families equally the same even if her real family no longer lived.

She got to know her family as the days, months, and years went on. Lilly loves her mother Martha for sure, as they travel to the market to shop on sunny mornings, and they cook, sew, and found a common interest in checkers, as Martha and George play together. Lilly prefers cards more because it is less boring.

In speaking of George, she has been calling him father after her first week living at Mount Vernon. They sit in his office daily, reading, having intellectual discussion, and some nights they stay up late drawing maps and other artwork together. On rainy afternoons they sit outside on their back porch watching the rain fall on the dark Potomac River while her father gives her advice on life and the world. When it wasn't raining, he would take her and Jacky horseback riding teaching them the proper equestrian methods he knew so well.

Ever since George got to know his daughter much more, he very much wanted the young people in his care, including his daughters, to be given the educational opportunities he himself had missed because of his own father's passing. So he enrolled Patsy and Lilly to a small, all girls' private school close to home, and Jacky enrolled in an all boy's institution called Boucher's school. Patsy was pulled out, due to her low level of health and no desire to study wanting to be a "stay at home woman." Lilly stayed and flourished, soaking up all information she could like a sponge. Her teacher called her in one letter, "a girl of good genius." The same words were said for his son. Reverend Boucher considered Jacky "a promising boy" and expressed "anxiety" that as "the last of his Family," who would be coming into "a very large Fortune," he wanted to see the boy made fit for more useful purposes, than a horse racer. However, as early as Jacky's teenage years, George Washington began worrying about his stepson's work ethic. He could not understand why the young man he helped to raise could not or would not see the need to apply himself at school and his work.

Jacky, who was shy at first when Lilly first met him, now treats her like a little brother as they sword fight with toy swords, or just see each other whenever he's around the house. He's grown to be soft and lazy, and does poorly in school from what her father told her, with anger and disappointment in his face.

Patsy and she do everything else together: singing, dancing, playing dolls, running around outside when Patsy isn't weak that day or when Lilly wasn't studying and reading. Patsy always had a seizure at unexpected times, especially when swimming in the large Potomac behind their house where she almost drowned. Luckily Jacky was outside to help Lilly drag her out before she drowned, saving her life:

 _Patsy spluttered water out of her mouth, coughing violently with her eyes closed._

 _"John her eyes aren't open!" Lilly shouted over her shoulder to her brother running back to her._

 _"Open them Pat! Please!" Jacky kneeled on the opposite side of his sister looing down. "Father is coming."_

 _"What happened?" Patsy whispered inaudibly, eyes still shut._

 _"You fainted in the river, almost drowned on us," Jacky told her, feeling for her heartbeat._

 _"Can you open your eyes?" Lilly asked her, with some tears in her eyes._

 _"No, I can't, there's water everywhere," Patsy coughed once more, spitting up more water._

 _"Sit up!" Lilly shouted, hand going behind her sister's back with the help of her brother. They help her sit up, and pat her back, causing her to spit up the rest of the water._

 _"Look down, and move your eyes around," Lilly told her next. Patsy, eyes still closed, moves her eyes under her eyelids weakly while looking down._

 _"Look up, and now try opening your eyes." Patsy did as she was told, and opened her eyes, shivered while doing so, and squinted at the light glaring on the water._

 _"Patsy!" George called, running downhill to his three children sitting along the bank._

 _"She can see now!" Jacky stood up telling his father, who is already kneeling by Patsy. "Lilly helped her."_

 _"You did too!" Lilly said, looking to her brother before looking back at her sister, now being picked up by their father._

 _"I'm cold father," Patsy said curling into her father's arms who soothes her, pulling her closer._

 _"You'll be alright, your mother has some valerian and capsules, and you'll go rest in bed," he told her, standing up and walking away. "Thank you John, Lillian."_

 _"You're welcome father," they chorus, just as serious. Their father only called them by their exact names when he was angry, serious, or introducing them to someone. Sometimes out of love on some occasions when he feels he doesn't say it often._

 _"That was scary," Lilly said to her brother, with unshed tears in her eyes still from almost losing their sister._

 _"It was, but she'll be alright, she always is," Jacky comforted his baby sister, pulling her into a hug._

All the family ever did together was worry about Patsy, who had finally stopped her usual routine for some months, but after the break she started doing it again, only more life threatening: twelve times a month and sometimes twice in one day as she got older. In the summer of 1770, George Washington kept a log of these episodes in the margins of a printed calendar in his almanac. The summer was the main time due to it being overly hot outside, and the month of June in 1773 was when things took a drastic turn.

A number of family members were visiting Mount Vernon, a fun and pleasuring time for everyone. Around four in the afternoon after everyone had finished dinner, Patsy and Eleanor Calvert (the fifteen year old fiancée of Jacky, who was nineteen) were talking quietly while Lilly pestered her brother with questions claiming even she, his youngest sister, is older than his fiancée! She also claimed it was inappropriate and Jacky only responded

"That's how love works Lil's. You'll be married off one day soon as well."

"No I won't. I'm busy with my studies, I have no time for that," she told him with a look of disgust. "And I'm _young_ ," she stresses the word young as she gestures over to Eleanor.

"She is right. She won't be married off, especially anytime soon. You should be saying and doing the same John," George joins their conversation as he took a sip from his water.

"You're not arranging her with anyone?" A family member whispered to George, his eyes holding shock.

"No, I do not believe in such customs. She is deserving of great things, of that I am confident, and she will come to see that she is useful to society and become successful. Only then I'll approve of who she loves if it is a man of good morals and character."

Jacky glared at his father from across the living room, remembering those words were said to him, but they were altered to fit his sister. His father winks at his son, assuring him he sees his glare.

"Love? To carry on the pedigree of the family?" The same family member questioned resulting in an angry George standing up from his chair to get fresh air.

"I will not be arguing today," he said walking out the door.

Patsy went to her room to retrieve a recent letter from her brother who was away at King's College in New York. After some moments, hearing a strange noise coming from Patsy's room, Eleanor found the young woman on the floor in the throes of a life-threatening seizure.

"Lillian!" Eleanor caught sight of the young girl in the hallway running towards the room already, hearing the strange noises as well.

"This happens all the time—Patsy!" Lilly's face paled at the sight of her sister. "John! Help!" She screams loudly.

Patsy was moved onto the bed by the two women by the time George and some of the family members came.

Martha frantically sought help, while George knelt beside the stepdaughter he had raised since she was a toddler with tears streaming down his face, praying for her recovery.

Jacky hugged Lilly close, restraining her from going to her sister.

"The doctor will be here soon Lil's," Jacky told her, rubbing his little sister's back.

"He better hurry!" Lilly hisses at him before looking to her sister who doesn't look right, almost too pale, and _dead_.

In the blink of an eye it seemed to Lilly, as soon as she thought it, less than two minutes later Patsy was dead, without uttering a word, a groan, or scarce a sigh.

"My little girl! My innocent girl!" George cries, falling in the crook of his daughter's shoulder.

Jacky and Lilly have choked sobs, watching everything in front of them, their father wetting she sheets from his tears, and their mother on the floor with her head against the footboard of the bed, gasping for breath from crying so hard.

Lilly went to her room, silently, holding back anymore sobs that tried to escape, and from what her mother saw, she stayed in her room for almost two days straight, no more noise coming from her. She only came out for the funeral the next day, standing close to her father, brother, and mother, holding her mother and father's hands tightly as they listened to the eulogist and priest who traveled in.

A distraught Martha and George promptly turned all their attention to their son and other daughter, and Jacky returned home, leaving college and New York City all together, and his newlywed wife, to be with his family. Eventually, and slowly, two months passed since Patsy's death. It was nothing but the wind blowing the clouds, and it's only the start of the storm. It will only get worse

 **A/N: How is it so far? This story already has me tearing up as I write. Next chapter will be when Lilly takes up her role as main character, and you'll learn more about her (Benjamin later on ;) ). Thank you wildcat717 for favoriting, following,and reviewing! I appreciate it so much! Thank you to everyone who is reading silently. Please review and follow! More to come!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	3. Chapter 3: The Greatest Risk

Chapter 3:

~ 1st person POV- Lilly

Mt. Vernon 1775

The rain echoes and splashes on the dark Potomac River, like glass shards piercing through silk. The slaves went to their homes up the hill before it started pouring buckets and pails. I sit back in the rocking chair, moving back and forth, on the long back porch underneath shelter watching it fall as I think about everything, only finishing what I started. Since the day I was born I was thinking so, I continue thinking about every single thing; trying to wrap my mind around the world. However, all of these thoughts that keep me moving during the day are not even worth thinking about at night when I fall asleep into the deepest slumber in the world, or a light sleep and wake up at midnight, staying up until the next night. I normally never sleep, which is abnormal for a young lady such as myself, but after what I lived through up until now, it is understandable.

My full name's Lillian Elizabeth Washington. I'm eighteen, now in the year of 1775. I'm a polished woman from what I'm told. I'm visually seen by others as typical of many of the young women one sees in this suburban outpost- not a whole lot of prospects or possibility. That aside, I am distinctive in my own way. I read more books, paint, have a great fascination for swords than I should, and I'm decidedly horrible at lying. Not that I ever lie, it is a terrible thing to do anyway. And I've been to medical school (University of Pennsylvania some days out of the months and when not at a small private school closer to home), which is a big deal for not just my family, but the public around us or anyone who knows us. It is exceedingly rare women achieve such high education. In general, the purpose of women's education was to become skilled at household duties and chores (which I am capable of as well) in order to find a suitable husband. A woman such as me who is highly educated in academics is thought to be unusual and not sought after, but given my family's name and position in society, "all hope isn't lost," which is what my mother Martha always said on the topic of suitors.

Despite the family name and teachers automatically trying to give me everything, I told them I wanted to work my way up little by little to earn my license at nursing, just like everyone else. It was a long climb but worth it.

I've done this since I came here seven years ago, sitting on the porch during the rain that is. Seven years does not seem like a lot, but it is in my eyes, especially my parents. The chair creaks on the floorboards below every so often in between the lightning and thunder, breaking out of thought when I hear the loudest rumble of thunder. How is it that thunder can sound pleasant from far away, but bloodcurdling when it's close? Or is that just me? It makes my eardrums squeeze, making me freeze up altogether. But nothing was certain now, nor of tomorrow, and tomorrow again. I stand up from my place to go back inside, because my father wouldn't come sit with me today, he was off fighting war; a revolutionary one.

I shut the door behind me, accidentally loudly because the wind pulled it shut. Some certainty of the world had vanished along with the thunder and left the darkness beyond my front door, but still I keep my strong heart and mind full of hope and confidence. A Washington never loses sight of anything.

"It's pouring down badly out there," my mother says as she sews some cloth when I enter the parlor. I take a cup of hot tea from her before I go sit in the far corner of the parlor, watching the shadow of rain hit the windows behind the blue curtains.

"It is," I say as I take a sip, listening to a silent house and the rumble of clouds and loud rain outside.

"Do not think I didn't notice the rain on your dress, Lilly," she says still looking down at the cloth in her lap.

"I wasn't dancing in the rain, this time. The rain just blew underneath the shelter where I was sitting," I defend myself, briefly glancing down at my slightly wet blue dress. "It's happened before."

"I know it has, but try not doing it too much. You do not need to get sick," she says with a hollowed voice.

I can only sigh as I close my dry eyes when I hear that word, sick. There's another horrible word other than lying. What is even worse is when you associate words with someone, like my deceased sister equals sick, and lying equals failed suitors and their attempts to court me. Liars they are for saying they _love_ me when they haven't even got to know me fully, and when they do, they quit talking to me and never to be seen again. It hurts, that no man would want me forever for many reasons that will be explained later on, but I'm perfectly content with being alone, much to everyone's dismay, and my younger self if she could look at me now. My younger self imagined me being someone's princess, treated like a queen, and loved for who she was.

"Is there any good news?" I ask her as I take another sip of tea, diminishing my thoughts.

"Of late? No, other than a few more suitors for you which I kindly say 'not interested' to," she says making me smile and sigh gratefully.

"Thank you. I'm grateful to have you and father in my life. Not many parents allow their child to decide their own future," I say thinking of my few "friends", more like acquaintances, who were married off already to someone of wealth or a soldier.

"Hmm, it should always be a ladies own decision. We don't believe in arranged or forced marriage. No one can decide anything for you Lilly. We love you too much to have you not be happy. But a little push in the right direction is sometimes alright," my mother hums before looking up at me as I watch the rain fall behind the curtains and sipping my tea. _Push_ … equals my brother pushing me off the edge of the pier and into the ice cold water many winters ago on his birthday. He always pushed me around, but in a loving and brotherly fashion.

I must have a frown on my face because I hear her exhale a loud breath. She does not like seeing me frown, even when I'm serious. I always smile, it's a habit because I am happy giddy all the time, but when I do become serious I get asked if something is wrong a lot.

Her lips upturn as I give her a small smile reassuring her I'm fine.

"Some of those suitors, however, I couldn't say no to. You'll have to meet them one day and at least talk to them over some tea. They intend on meeting you. If your father was here there would be none of this," she explains before asking the dreaded question.

"Have you given it much thought? Finding someone?" She curiously asks.

I groan dramatically, placing my tea cup back on its small plate and set it on the side table, where Maria, our servant, picks it up. Maria became my friend since the day I moved in here. She is more of a friend than a servant, which I despise calling her.

"Maybe, but…" I trail off as I stretch my legs.

"But what?" my mother asks staring at me along with Maria.

"I don't like people," I say making Maria almost burst laughing, but she covers her mouth. "Maybe that came out wrong. I tolerate some, but many no. Especially crowds. Crowds of _men_. "

"I understand how you feel," my mother says with understanding eyes. "I was like you before I met my first husband, and then George. Every man has in mind that _one thing_ , but if you ignore and not hint at it there is nothing wrong with courting, or being friendly company, to get to know them. By friendly company I mean becoming friends first, which is what I see you doing. Then the simplest part, if you don't like them, you never have to see them again."

"But she is too nice, she can't end a friendship just like that," Maria says snapping her fingers for an example.

"I can too if they don't make me happy. I don't want to talk about this mother. I _courted_ before, but that's not what that particular suitor had in mind, and the rest of them followed being the same. I'll just say to end this conversation, I have thought about it, but I don't like anyone I see," I say standing up and walking towards the hallway to the stairs.

"You will one day," mother calls after me. "I'm not pressuring you; I just want to know if you've thought about it. And there was that one fellow."

"He turned loyalist," I mutter back to her, my voice rumbling with the thunder at the same moment.

"Of course he did."

"Kind of glad, because it is for certain I'll never see him again now—"

"—Mrs. Washington, you have received a letter from your husband," Maria says making me stop at the foot of the staircase, ceasing my brooding mood all together, overhearing what is being said down the hallway.

I hurry back to the parlor in time for mother to open the letter with a relieved look. She smiles fondly at my father's great penmanship and marvelous diction that rivals King George and all poets who ever existed. Well, I take that back, King George isn't marvelous at all in anything whatsoever.

Maybe I will find that special love one day, just like my mother Martha, and my biological mother who passed on had found. But for now I can only wonder and face reality at the same time, not dream.

"Lilly!" she calls for me loudly thinking I was upstairs, but soon hushes when she sees me standing in the hallway.

"Yes?" I ask. She hands over a faded envelope with raindrops soaked on it along with the letter she just read.

"This definitely traveled a long way," I mumble and begin to read:

 _Phila. June 23d 1775._

 _My dearest,_

 _As I am within a few Minutes of leaving this City, I could not think of departing from it without dropping you a line; especially as I do not know whether it may be in my power to write again till I get to the Camp at Boston—I go fully trusting in that Providence, which has been more bountiful to me than I deserve, & in full confidence of a happy meeting with you and Lilly sometime in the Fall—I have not time to add more, as I am surrounded with Company to take leave of me—I retain an unalterable affection for you, which neither time or distance can change, my best love to Lilly, Jack & Nelly, & regard for the rest of the Family concludes me with the utmost truth & sincerity._

 _Your entire,_

 _George Washington_

"Oh mother," I say smiling with teary eyes. Looking up she has the same expression on her face.

"We can see him in the fall he says! I can't wait to hear from him again."

She chuckles, "Me too. Knowing him he will find time to write, always."

"I better get to work then," I say handing the letter back to her, rubbing my hands together, and heading towards my father's office, which is strictly forbidden for anyone to enter but me, mother, and father of course. Only he can permit other's to go in but it is only a select couple of individuals, most likely high government officials.

"On what dear?" She asks.

"Father's assignment to me, which is confidential," I answer as I shut the door behind me, already starting to get to work. I eye one of the large bookcases, and remove some books, placing them on the small table with already another stack of books on them, to reveal my box of letters from current and failed suitors. Why I keep my letters from men I'm not interested in? Well, some happen to be friends, "patriots," who relay information to me from the British boarding in their homes and other settings, though it is quickly discussed in hasty writing because it is their love letter of interest in me after all. One soldier's letters in particular, the one who turned loyalist and could have been a potential match for me, has been reaching out to me, relaying information as well to give to my father. Though I'm not entirely sure I am buying it, it could be a trick. As for now, I'm getting back to deciphering all the letters, trying to find similarities and differences before recording it in my journal, and later on put it on letter to send to my father secretly.

My father quickly recognized the need for effective intelligence gathering efforts as he was preparing to leave home to go off to be a general in command of the Continental Army besieging the British in Boston. In doing so, preparing to leave, he pulled me aside to be a gatherer of enemy information because of our family's connections, my connections, and no one would suspect the General's daughter in doing such espionage, very discreetly. Helping most of all in some cases is many still do not know he has another daughter, because last they heard his _known_ daughter had passed on. However, I do not gather such information often, for now it is once every couple of months.

Noticing what lies inside in not only seeing but observing came natural to me; a trait that was in both of my biological parents.

I am a spy, and a nurse, but a lady first. I know what is inside of us all. Perhaps this is why women as a whole are not highly educated. The purpose of education is to replace an empty mind with an open one. If they were given everything, including so much education, they could be superior over men, if not equal, because how our minds work is unexplained phenomenon. The way I look at it, our minds are sharp as a knife, and soft as a cloud. The balance between the two is an easy task to achieve, but when knowing too much becomes too much, that depends on the person. This is, perhaps, the greatest risk: To be seen as we truly are.

 **A/N: And this is where all the action and fun begins. (Calm down Benjamin Tallmadge fans, he'll be mentioned soon at some point ;) This was a getting to know Lillian, or Lilly, chapter now that she is older. Sorry for the time skip for those who don't like it much, but it had to be done. However, there is still A LOT about her you don't know yet and that will come up in later chapters, as well as flashbacks and mini stories in between- Anyway I don't want to spoil it. The American Revolution was long, and all the history in not just this revolution but for everyone individually even after the war, will factor in all together and make either long chapters, or a longer story (YAY lol).**

 **Thank you wildcat717, IFoundHopeInYourHateForMe, and Hope (guest) for reviewing! Thank you thedfork, Jane R. Doe, and LittleDoe for following and favoriting!**

 **I hope you everyone enjoyed this chapter, and more to come! Stay tuned!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	4. Chapter 4: Made to be Loved

Chapter 4:

 _Two people, man and woman, walked side by side, arm in arm, enjoying a lovely warm spring day at Mt. Vernon in 1774. They would have been mistaken as a couple if there were any other people around, but only the slaves and the young woman's family was all there was on this 11,028 square foot estate. The Mansion dwarfs the majority of dwelling houses in the rest of Virginia._

 _"This is such lovely weather," the tall man took a deep breath in, closing his eyes for a moment._

 _"It sure is, and we're taking good advantage to enjoy it while we can. April showers bring May flowers, rain will come sooner or later," the woman said with a smile gracing her lips, dress swirling at her feet, feeling the warmth around her and the gentle cool breeze, knowing the man's eyes are on her._

 _"You like the rain?" He asked her._

 _"Yes I do. But the rain doesn't like me. It drenches me and the humidity ruins my hair," she giggled making him laugh as well, shaking his head. She looks at the light bouncing off his chiseled features, not helping herself to not admire this interesting man who also has a sense of humor._

 _"I'm sure everyone feels the same way, I know I do," he flinched when she playfully slaps him on the shoulder making him laugh even harder._

 _"You are a man; you have nothing to worry about with appearance and what society expects you to be. A man has no bad hair days, they can pull off the scruffy look, and frizz," she explains. "It's almost as if you adapt to your surroundings, like reptiles."_

 _"Maybe we do. I think you're on the verge of a scientific discovery, Miss Lillian."_

 _"Shut it," she grunted, rolling her eyes hearing another heartily laugh escape him. Was she this funny? Sure she makes her parents laugh at times, but her siblings groan at her 'plain' sense of humor. "If anything it was already thought of and discovered, it just hasn't come to anyone's attention yet."_

 _"So true, but if it means anything, even though I do not see you much, I do know that even on the rainiest of days you make every day beautiful, frizzy hair and all," the man said looking down at her with a gaze that had her heart melting. Melting? 'No, this can't be the man for me' she thinks to herself. She would feel much different. 'But how do I know what love feels like?' She adds to her inner musings._

 _"Albert you're such a flatterer," she comments, fighting the blush to take hold of her cheeks._

 _"Well, you're the first to say so," he coyly says with his British accent, looking away for some moments in deep thought._

 _"Is something wrong?" she asks him worriedly, feeling the change in mood around them both. Suddenly, she heard a buzz in her ear making her scream, grabbing Albert's blue coated arm tighter and he swats the hornet away, pushing her behind him._

 _First thinking he was ignoring her question because it was silent for almost two minutes as they continued walking before he pulled her off the path, paying mind to slaves that were walking about, and they hide behind a tree._

 _"Yes Miss Lillian, something is wrong, I'm afraid to say," he swallows nervously, feeling her grip on his muscular arm unmoving from what just happened._

 _"You don't have to call me 'Miss,' Albert. We've known each other for a good amount of time now."_

 _"But I can't, that's it. I don't know—"he was interrupted by her._

 _"You don't want to see me anymore? You could have just said so then, I don't mean to be intimidating."_

 _His hand went to her face, framing it gently, silencing her, "You are not intimidating, if not scary at all. I should be the one that is intimidating, and be scared of."_

 _"What do you mean?"_

 _"My father is a devoted loyalist, and he's in the Royal Army," he admits, watching her face fall, unreadable emotion in her eyes. He's seen her father direct the same look towards him the first day he came to visit the Vernon mansion and his rumored single daughter. He heard such great and amiable things about her that seemed to reflect him, so he had to meet her. She ended up being so much more than he thought. 'A woman with an actual brain while in tune with her emotions' he wrote to his father, but received no response._

 _He continued on, "Him having me as a patriotic son is already causing my family trouble, so without my consent he enlisted me for the Royal Army to secure my family's future."_

 _"How could he?!"_

 _" 'Because it is in my blood.' It is the reason for everything nowadays. It is also the reason why I—I can't continue to see you, or court you as I hoped to. I can't risk you and your family's lives, especially your father with a great devotion to the opposite side. "_

 _She broke eye contact with him during his explanation, and it stayed silent for several minutes._

 _"It's not that I don't love you I—" he spoke up just as she started to._

 _"You don't love me. If you did you would be fighting back your father. And there will be no future even if you join the Royal Army. You're only ruining the future!"_

 _He could only be silent, his heart aching. Perhaps he didn't love her as much as he thought… But he did in some way he knew it. She was right in every word she said, but his father's words kept appearing in the front of his mind no matter how hard he tried pushing them away and getting rid of them. 'Don't let some weak woman become your whole world. You need to help our men to claim the whole world before that. If I approve of her that is, and so far I'm not.'_

 _He shuts his eyes tightly, angered to the very core, "I want you safe Lillian. Please know that I do secretly want your side to win."_

 _"When are you leaving?" she asks, bringing her eyes back up to meet his, unflinchingly._

 _"In two days. I'm bound for Setauket, Long Island. I'm already labeled as Ensign Baker."_

 _She nods her head, absorbing this information._

 _"Well you best get going; it's a long road to leave Mt. Vernon as it is. It was nice knowing you." She begins walking away, but his hand catches her hand._

 _"That's all? Not even a 'stay in touch?'" He gave a mirthless laugh._

 _"I can't 'stay in touch' with the enemy," she claims, saying 'enemy' with venom and hurt._

 _A pang of guilt hit his heart, watching the woman he grown to love, and she him, crumble in front of him and hate him. With determined eyes he pulls her closer, "Doesn't mean I can't. Believe me! I will write you every time I can when it's safe. I will give you information from the British—"_

 _"Lilly!" Her father called her name._

 _"I don't believe you, and that sounds impossible to do. Please I got to go—"she now feels the hurt in her heart._

 _"You don't have to. We will stay in touch even if you don't respond—"_

 _"You're only making it worse—" she was silenced by a gentle and lingering kiss on her right cheek, almost making her stop breathing. It felt strange, almost foreign being kissed by another man outside her family. But the thing was, she felt his love from him, but she didn't reciprocate it, at least not anymore._

 _"I'll stay in touch with you. You have to trust. I know you can spare some for me as I am for you. Goodbye Miss Lillian, until we meet again," he kissed her other soft cheek making her tremble. He walked out from behind the tree with her, but as soon as they make it on the path, he went straight to his horse on the bowling green side of the mansion not before tilting his head out of respect to George Washington, and riding off._

 _"Lilly where have you been?" Her father approached her worriedly, and taking note on the unhappiness in her eyes. "What did he do to you!"_

 _"Nothing, nothing at all. Only ended our friendship and potential courtship," she said looking into her father's eyes as if for answers on why this happened._

 _"Oh—" he pulled his daughter to him into a hug as tight as he could hold her with all his strength._

 _"I feel your pain my little lilly."_

 _She shook her head, watching Albert Baker ride off on his horse into the beautiful spring day that didn't seem so beautiful to her anymore. His ebony dark pulled back hair blowing behind him, and she was picturing the famous white wig he'd soon be wearing. It hurt to think about it._

 _"Why don't men like me father?"_

 _His hand stopped petting the back of her head, and she heard his loud intake of breath._

 _"Don't think what I know you're thinking. You can't make him pay for what he did to me, it's best to let it go. Please answer my question," she says with a broken voice, but no crying, yet. "Why don't men like me?"_

 _"They like you, that is certain. Never, ever think they don't. They only came to realization that they are no good for you and will add nothing of value to your life. And Providence often removes a person in your life for your protection," he poetically told her, hearing his heart beat at every word he said._

 _She looked up at him with a little smile, "Thank you father."_

 _His finger tapped her nose sweetly, "You're welcome."_

 _She sighs and buries her face deeper into her father's chest, hiding her now tear stained face from the world in his coat._

 _"You actually had a liking to him, didn't you?"_

 _She only nods her head and it remains silent afterwards. She knows her father's face is turned towards where Albert rode off, just waiting for him to turn around and come back whether for him to make his daughter happy once more, or so he could have some 'words' with him._

 _"He isn't worth your tears my child, you're stronger than this. Now, unless you want to go inside and keep to yourself, I need your help gathering the dogs, I don't know all their names. And we need to get the other designs out for the house; we're starting the expansion today."_

 _She smiles, sniffling, "Sure, of course I'll help. You always know how to make me feel better, and help my heart forget it was ever hurt."_

 _"I'm your father, I should know how to. And that right there is what to look for in a man, my dear."  
_

* * *

Lilly awoke, sitting up straight in a chair in her father's office with letters scattered all over the desk. She shook the dream, memory, from her mind.

"Was I really that bored? Or tired?" She looks out the window seeing it is still dark and raining outside. "Rain, right. It puts me right to sleep."

"Who are you talking to Lilly?" Maria asks from outside the closed office door.

"Myself! Have a problem with that?" She yelled, sensing her friend's amused smile from behind the door.

"No I do not. I was just checking up on you, you were in there for a while. Dinner will be soon," Maria says.

"Thank you, I'll be out shortly," Lilly turns to the letter that she was reading last because it is the only one folded open. "Oh. That's why I had that dream."

The letter was from Albert Baker, well, 'Ensign Baker,' from Setauket. Sure enough, like his other letters, it contained information on the British and their next moves, but he didn't elaborate which had her doubting him. It was a bland 'this will happen here' or just a 'name of location' sort of note, it wasn't believable at least to her. She doubted him to begin with, but she wrote down the information on the side just in case his words proved to be true.

His writing shows he let the loyalist blood engulf him whole; discussing his job and that he was billeted at 'the perfect home of loyalist supporters.' He always mentions how cute their family is and their little baby son who will one day be marching in red uniform as well. If the thought didn't, the words made her sick all over.

It was one line that had her confused and angry, and her mind pictured the beautiful spring day a year ago: _I miss your twinkling look that bubbles bright, with a heart to care, and a heart to love, with hands to hold, and hands to help, you're a Beautiful lady always there to give..._

"But you don't love me!" she held the letter atop the candle, watching it burn so quick that in the blink of an eye it was gone. His words placed in the back of her mind.

"Lily," her mother softly spoke in the doorway, having watched the whole scene.

"I know. I was done for the day anyway," Lilly can only say blowing out the candle, standing up and leaving the office, shutting the door shut behind her being sure to hear the click.

* * *

Saying grace and eating a hot dinner on this wet day cleared all of Lilly's thoughts, especially when listening to her mother talk, just hearing her voice gets rid of her tension always. Her mother talked about visitors coming in and out throughout the month, and ladies coming over for tea and to sew. Then the continuing expansion of the house came up, how it is going smoother than thought since George isn't there to direct it, and the upcoming renovation of the dining room, the stables are getting more posts…

Her mother watches Lilly pick at her food, taking more gulps of soup then solid food, from across the table with sorrowful eyes and thinking what she could do to help her. While always thinking of ways to help her, she always comes to the same conclusion that she can't help her, only be there for guidance and support and allow her little girl to work it out on her own.

"I know it isn't any of my business—or maybe it is since he is the _enemy_ ," her mother begins. Lilly lifts her head up slowly looking at her mother, with the spoon of soup pausing close to her mouth and steam rolling off of it.

"I think you should respond to him," Martha continues, taking a sip of tea.

"Why?" The hollowness in her daughter's voice made her almost reconsider her words. Almost.

"It just may make you feel better. And if I don't know any better, it is seemingly rude to not respond to someone's letter, even if that someone is a man who happened to break your heart but still writes you with good intentions and loves you. Loyalist or not."

Lilly finally put the spoon of soup into her mouth, swallowing, and puts the silver spoon down before she answers, straightening her posture causing her long brown hair that was behind her back to fall over her shoulders.

"Three things: One, he didn't break my heart. Hearts do not break, they sting and ache, it's all medical. If a heart did break the person would be dead. Two, what makes you think he still loves me? And three, how do you know he writes with good intentions?"

Her mother straightened as well. Maria coughs from the kitchen awkwardly before stepping out to give them their privacy.

"Alright. First, that is a wise way to think on broken hearts. However, it is called a broken heart because it feels broken, my girl. Second, he still loves you because he is reaching out to you, and when he was still here he made every effort to see you and make you smile. No other man tried as hard as he did. Third, I know he writes with good intentions because I read some of his letters. _Love letters_."

"You went through my box!" Lilly stands up abruptly from her chair, shocked.

"Your father told me to!" Her mother stood up as well with a piercing look, silencing Lilly. Both at her action and that she mentioned father. "He wanted me to make sure men weren't trying to take advantage of you. He was also concerned about your new behavior, we both don't like it."

"You both know that I am happy, I always am! Except when I'm not," she says crossing her arms, almost making her mother laugh at her claim. "When any other man, or suitor, or Albert Baker is mentioned I am not happy! When father is gone fighting a war I am not happy! Of course no one is though. I am not at ease right now feeling vulnerable to anyone walking in on us and—I can't say it."

When Lilly shouted, tears falling out her eyes, her mother felt angered that she would yell at her in that tone, but at the same time she felt guilty herself because she played a role in her new behavior because she kept bombarding her with questions about men.

Their brown eyes held contact in the silence that engrossed the whole dining area. Finally, anger and sadness drifted out the air, and in replaced regret and apology.

"I feel the same way, Lillian. Vulnerable… George feels the same way we do, if not more unease for leaving us alone. Without him here, life does not seem like we're living, I know it. But we have tons of able-bodied.. servants who are guards to us if not close friends, and we have family who comes and goes. We are not alone. We'll get through this," her mother softly expresses.

"I know we will," Lilly says with certainty, smoothing her dress out. "Excuse me, please. I spilled my drink on me. And sorry for raising my voice," Her mother smiles faintly and bows her head, watching her daughter walk out the room to go upstairs, probably for the rest of the day.

"I'm sorry too. I'll do my best to not bring up the sore subject, again," Martha tells her as she walks off, seeing her pause briefly in her steps, then continuing to pad through the house to go to her room.

"I'm guessing you didn't get to tell her?" Maria appears in the dining room with a towel to clean the spilled food and drink.

"No. I didn't even get that far. I can't ask her now; did you hear what she said?" Martha asks Maria with desperateness.

"Barely."

"So you did hear?"

"Yes."

"Then say so next time."

"Yes ma'am," Maria smiles up at her lady as she sits on the floor wiping up the water and tea.

Martha grabs a napkin from the table and bends down to help ignoring Maria's disproval's.

"You're not going to tell her about the man then?" Maria asks in a low hush.

"He's already coming to visit one day this coming week. Our discussion will blow over, and then I'll inform her gently. Or you will," Martha wonders aloud.

"Oh no. That's serious news," Maria shakes her head, dark eyes widening at the thought of telling her friend another potential suitor is coming to visit. "What if she don't like him?"

"You have to tell her, and later on after the visit, I'll tell her I invited him because I couldn't say no to his offer, and believe me, she will like him."

Maria watches Martha pick up the damp napkin and carry it to the trash deep in thought, not sure if she likes where this is going.

"Isn't this going against everything you told her?"

Martha looks over her shoulder at the servant who has been with them for years, deep in thought herself.

"No. Because I recall saying sometimes a little push in the right direction is alright. I'm not being mean either. I'm helping her Maria. Meeting people is good to do, I will not sit back and let her say no to every man who comes along and prefer to be alone. She'll come to her senses."

Maria wasn't going to dispute, because for the most part it is true. It would be good for her friend.

"Yes ma'am. I understand."

* * *

 **A/N: DUN! DUN! DUN! This was a monster chapter to write. What about that? Ensign Baker being an old interest of Lilly? For those of you who don't know him, Ensign Baker was the soldier boarded in Abraham Woodhull's home and was being whipped in one episode, episode 4 I believe *very muscular ooh lala*. He didn't have a first name so I took the liberty to name him Albert, he looked like an Albert. A lot unfolded in this chapter, and it will continue to in later chapters. Benjamin Tallmadge may or may not be mentioned in the next chapter ;) you'll see. Oh and Martha Washington, please don't take her the wrong way, she is helping Lilly. Martha is a thoughtful, warm, loving lady according to what all of history recorded, however for the times and if her other daughter was still living, she'd be wanting her little girl to find love just as much as she wants Lilly to. Thank you everyone! Please review and follow and stay tuned!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	5. Chapter 5: Mad Tea Happenings

_()~()~()~()~()_

 _"Associate with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company." -George Washington_

()~()~()~()

Chapter 5:

Martha and Lillian Washington being forced to assume a public role as a symbol of the patriot cause became their duty since the tensions with Britain intensified. One of the first ways in which Martha and Lillian's new role transformed their life was that they are now a potential target for British assault. Assaults can be a variety of ways, killed, taken hostage, and or used for leverage. As of now, no such acts happened or tried to have happened it is all peaceful at Mt. Vernon.

In a more positive light, they were honored by all the patriots around them, from far away heard from rumor and letters, and when people came to visit, or when they traveled to visit with family and friends to stay safe from possible abduction at their own home. Both women are surprised and a little dismayed at all this attention, but they accept it nonetheless because it is indeed a great and prominent role to be. It is more of Martha getting all the attention for being George's wife.

The women still couldn't be more honored for being looked up to in such a way, and couldn't be more honored to have a husband, father, unlike no other to be the cause of it all. It takes a man of great magnitude combined with an inherent honesty and earnest willingness to defend his ideals. Despite his odd appearance being so tall and with pockmarked large feet and hands, and sunken eye sockets, his physical appearance became "sheer majesty." A combination of bravado, intellect, and cultured aloofness, Washington is king-like even without a title.

However for Lilly, it isn't all it's cracked up to be in a bigger matter, and it doesn't make her father too happy either. She's received letters from young men, high ranked soldiers, and older men of many titles wishing to pair up her and their son. This has been going on since the start of the war because of her father being popular and widely admired, making the bloodline more sought after, angering the Washington family. Sure he was popular and admired before the war, but this was before word spread he had a wife at home along with a daughter, a 'free' daughter. Despite what disturbance this seems to be, the women at home are safe from all harm, and letters of late have lightened in delivery due to either no response from the women, a 'not interested' response, or them finding out she isn't of the Washington bloodline being adopted. A relief for the Washington's, but also enraged for such a reason for men to not want to court Lilly and so forth.

When Lilly first arrived at the lovely retreat of Mt. Vernon, she was fragile, untrustworthy until she met her new family having no choice but to trust them really, and scared of what the future would bring. Still scared of the future to this day, and not a day goes by she doesn't think of her biological parents and the word 'adopted' crosses her mind.

 _"You may be adopted, but that doesn't make us, me, or anyone love you any less," George tells Lilly one night when she first arrived._

 _"Some people don't love me though. People look at me funny, especially at school. I sit alone sometimes because of it," her eleven year old self curls up into his chest, sitting on his lap with his arms tightly embracing her. "My real mother always told me there will be mean people in this world."_

 _"I'm afraid that is true my sweet and I'll do my hardest to keep you from it, your mother, brother and I will. All that you can do, which is the best thing you can do, is associate with people of good quality if you esteem your own reputation; for it is better to be alone than in bad company," he tells her with all wisdoms she loves to no end._

 _"That sounds right. Yes sir."_

* * *

~ July 1775 Mt. Vernon ~

"So, you're adopted? That is what rumor says," the guest in front of Lillian asks her.

The two women sit drinking tea at a small distressed wooden table on the back pavilion overlooking the Potomac River.

Lilly pats the big straw hat, with a very shallow flat crown and a wide brim covered in powder blue fabric and white lilies for decoration, feeling the wind blow making it seem like it'll fly off her head any second.

"Yes I am," she resists herself from groaning and rolling her eyes at the question that is always asked. Surely this uppity woman clothed in purple in front of her has enough good sight to see that she looks unrelated to her mother and other family members in portraits. She knows she has good sight if she can spot over miles away a man coming for her, or a lady not wearing the latest fashion.

"What is it like? I'm sure it is hard on you," the lady nods sympathetically.

Lilly can only stare in utter stupidity at this woman. Luckily the woman, whose name is Mary she thinks, doesn't interpret it as stupidity but 'unhappy' much to Lilly's dismay, so she quickly responds.

"Actually no it isn't hard on me, like everyone assumes. Sure it was when I was eleven when I first arrived here. But no less than a year later, I've grown used to it. Its home and my wonderful family is all that I could ever ask for. I was blessed to be taken in by them," she responds reaching with her white gloved hands for the teapot to pour more into her glass teacup. Unknown to the both of them someone was watching them from the inside of the house and hearing their conversation from the cracked open window.

"I see. That is delightful, I'm happy you adjusted well and accept it."

"Yes, thank you," Lilly smiles friendly, taking a sip of her hot tea, feeling another cool breeze blow under the shelter.

"Is it always a lovely day here? The weather is wonderful today," Mary asks looking out at the large backyard, the river, and the big blue cloudless sky.

 _A sign of nothing else to talk about, weather,_ Lilly thinks to herself. _Sometimes._ "No, it's like any other place, we have our rainy days, sometimes it is like a monsoon. It pours so heavily that it floods all the way down the deep slope of our yard, and to the river. It's almost like a waterfall which is quite a sight to see and enjoy. We are blessed for the beautiful weather today before fall arrives."

"Quite," Mary snips, fixing her own purple fabric straw hat because of turning her head to far looking out, and pours more tea for herself while Lilly quirks an eyebrow at her change in behavior. _Did I say something? Perhaps too much on the rain part. Oh well I like rain, and waterfalls._

"Would you like to walk on the path, perhaps? The flowers are very vibrant this time of year," Lily offers politely. It is a lovely day after all.

"No thank you, I do not partake in walks," the woman responds plainly. "It causes sweat and odorous smells. I cannot sweat, and I never will."

"Actually it is part of human nature to sweat; everyone does even when they are inside doing nothing, it is a crucial biological function. We may not see it or feel it, but we are sweating this instant. It keeps our skin from drying up and falling off, boosts our immunity, keeps us cool, and aids in detoxification," Lilly explains with her anatomy knowledge feeling proud.

"Oh right, you're a doctor. You went through the trouble of school," Mary says under her breath with a frown of displeasure. "That's what men are for, Miss Lillian. They go through the education process, get their well-paying job, and marry a beautiful woman like you and I, to stay home and wait for them to do whatever they ask. And take care of the children that come along of course. Oh I hope I have none of those messy imbeciles. I hope you have none either, you have quite the outer reputation to keep up."

Lilly, blinking the anger out of her eyes and vowing to never forget what she just said, she decides to grab a bite size lemon cake to nibble on, or gnaw on, not liking today at all either like this _Mary_ in front of her. Forgetting all manners of propriety, she takes a couple more to slap on her plate to eat… with her gloves on and no fork, and pops each one into her mouth like she is with her family. This will drive the woman crazy.

Sure enough, Mary watches on in loathing. _At least I'm not gloveless and licking my fingers. I'm wasting good sugar wiping it on my lap napkin. Well, maybe I should…_

Holding back more opinions for her sake, "Would you like to enlighten me on the latest gossip women go on about these days? I am a little curious," Lilly speaks up, already feeling the headache come on when she said 'gossip.' She isn't too fond of gossiping, mainly with the uppity women. Some gossip she can tolerate.

"Sure," Mary's eyes seemed to lighten a little. A little. "Men in uniform are quite attractive at this time and many women are getting married because of it."

Lilly frowns, "Really?"

The opposite, Mary smiles widely, "If men were in uniform more often they'd have women fawn over them. Like the soldier my family is boarding temporarily. I couldn't help myself to fawn all over him as well. He'll surely ask me for my hand, I just know it. He hasn't seen anything so striking like me he says, and I never seen anyone like him, going about as he does."

Lilly looks down at her lap the whole time Mary goes on and on about men and how more women are 'going wild' in the bedroom. Holding back a gag, playing with the intricate details of her matching powder blue dress, she decides to ignore the inappropriateness of what is being said and instead admires the nice dress she has finally worn in what seemed like forever, they haven't had company in a while. The gown consisted of the powder blue bodice and skirt joined together tight at the waist, with the bustled skirt open in the front to reveal the separate petticoat that is white. The elaborate separate ruffles called engageantes are tacked to the shift sleeves, and her short, white low heeled boots covering her stocking feet. She looks over to her right at the river, watching the birds fly and land into the water just as smoothly, floating. Her own exposed skin catches her eye, glancing quickly down at her exposed neckline and lifted bust due to the tight corset, making sure it is all staying tucked in place.

"Are you that self-conscious?" Mary asks suddenly, snapping Lilly out of her thoughts.

Glaring at the woman, "No."

The woman laughs lightly, "I was only joking. I know you have great confidence. With your beauty, no wonder why men come knocking on your front door. But what gets me is why do they not stay?"

Lilly's lips form a thin line, biting back so many words.

"They do not stay because I do not like them; you should know how that goes. They expect so much from you, especially the first time meeting. And when they get to know you it causes some to change their mind and view altogether, realizing we aren't a perfect match. And some don't have much to offer sadly." Lilly adds for the liking of Mary.

"Picky girl, but high standards," Mary winks shrewdly. "Good luck."

Lilly swallows back the sour taste in her mouth as she sends Mary a quick smile before lifting her napkin to place on the table, done. If this is what the time of propriety tempering ardor, virtue checked passion, and abstinence making the heart grow fonder calls for, then so be it.

"What I meant by offer is that they don't have enough true love to offer me. The _love_ they are looking for, I do not have it," Lilly decides to say feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

After a moment thinking, Mary's eyes widen, "You're waiting for marriage?"

"Of course. A proper lady with morals and values stays in tune with her emotions. Why do you think I still look young? No man is making my hair go grey or my skin too soft and wrinkly."

Mary gasps, flipping her napkin up on the table with a stiff back, "If you are implying that I am no lady for not waiting until marriage then you have some nerve!"

"No I am not implying that. In fact, I have many friends who are in fact ladies and didn't wait, but they still have their values and morals intact in some way. I am, however, implying that you are a rude lady, Miss Mary. And haughty." _A little lie, one friend I have, Maria, the others are acquaintances. My only other friend is a man, Albert Baker, if he can even be called that. He told me he was waiting for the right lady too. He glanced at me when he said that with true love in his eyes. But that went away like a moth to a flame. He doesn't love me after what he decided to do, joining the British forces._

Mary's mouth opens and shuts like a fish before readying to leave, "I believe we're done here, I had enough tea to last all of fall. Good day Miss Lillian."

"Good day Miss Mary, I enjoyed our get together as well," Lilly responds in all politeness, no sarcasm, watching Mary go around the side to the front of the house joining the older women. She really did enjoy her day. If she replayed the whole time outside in her mind erasing Mary from it, she was enjoying lemon cakes and tea without gloves and a hat, daydreaming and probably considering to go swimming in the river before fall comes.

"You are turning into your mother more and more each day Lil's, and me. I raised you well," a deep voice breaks Lilly out of her thinking, making her scream.

"Jacky!" Lilly jumps out of her chair into her brother's arms, hugging him tight. "And no, no way am I turning into you. What makes you say that! That's a nightmare," She slaps his chest making him grin.

"If I heard correctly from inside the house, you told that _haughty_ woman what was on your mind. In fact you're like father, so honest but polite about it."

Lilly rolls her eyes; finally, "Mary didn't think it so polite."

"Well that is her problem. She was being rude. I almost came out here myself—or maybe sent Eleanor to break the ice. But you took care of it so I resumed my place inside by the window with my glass of cabernet wine enjoying the show, waiting for dresses to be ripped and stockings choking necks," he swivels the wine glass.

"You're such an arsehole," Lilly smirks.

"Only to my friends and baby sister!" Jacky responds with his own smirk before returning to a serious and concerned face. "You're alright?"

She shakes her head, "It's nothing to get worked up about. I defended myself so I'm alright."

"No one should say that to you, she was rude, and inappropriate. Don't let people like that deter you from your beliefs."

"I know brother; please this is awkward to talk to you about. Father gave me advice on almost everything already. _I'll never let anyone change me,"_ she recalls.

"Good," he nods his head; hands folding behind his back after one hand slicks back his now dark blond hair almost brown. "Is it… true?"

"Is what true?"

"That you never…" he trails off, eyebrows rising up and down suggesting. She realizes what he is saying immediately.

"No I didn't. Eleanor, your husband is being an idiot!" she calls walking back inside her house with her amused older brother following behind.

"Sorry for making it more awkward," he apologizes.

"You think?"

"John! Leave your sister be and help me out," his wife Eleanor shouts from the parlor stuck on the couch in her tight yellow dress with her oversized belly expecting a baby, looking like a stuffed sausage, trying to stay thin.

"I don't have anything wrong with it Lilly you know that. I just didn't know for certain, you are eighteen after all. I thought you and that Baker guy…" Jacky swallows as Lilly's eyes widen if not larger than her already big eyes. "Did some _baking_."

"NO!" Lilly and Eleanor both yell in unison, but Lilly's repulsed yell was directed at her brother while Eleanor's frustrated yell was directed at herself for spilling her glass of water on the carpet for trying to stand up. This caused the three of them to chuckle.

"Am I the only one that thinks my puns are funny?" Jacky asks.

"Yes!" Both women chorus once more, but this time Martha's voice is a part of it.

"I thought you liked them mother," Jacky pouts at his mother playfully.

"I only pretended to, to make you feel better about yourself," Martha says walking through the house with a line of slaves behind her going to help her out with something, probably to lift an old dining table to bring outside to auction.

Lilly bursts out laughing, enjoying every moment of it.

"Shut it, Lillipad," Jacky grumbles making his sister groan.

"I haven't heard that one before."

"Enough of the negativity, the baby senses it and makes her jumpy," Eleanor says rubbing her tummy, now standing up with the help of her husband.

"She?" Lilly smiles, resting her hand on her sister in law's stomach feeling it kick. "How do you know?"

"Women's intuition, mother's instinct," the pregnant lady smiles tiredly. John wraps an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

"Well feeling the kick, she is a healthy one, facing the right position at this stage. And you still look beautiful Nellie," Lilly smiles at the woman, using her nickname.

"Thank you doctor Lilly," the woman laughs. "You're just saying that."

"No I'm not! I always mean what I say. And I'm just a nurse, not a doctor," Lilly explains.

"They're all the same to me," Eleanor waves her hand as Jacky shrugs.

"Just say you're a doctor. No one will know the difference," Jacky says.

"Perhaps. But I can't lie. And many will question why a lady is a doctor, mostly men are."

"Mostly," Jacky raises a brow before walking away joining his wife to help themselves to food in the kitchen.

"Miss Lillian!" A servant calls her name.

"Yes Derik?" She looks at the tall dark man full of sweat, another friend of hers. _Perhaps I do have a lot of friends, 318 servants? I consider them as friends._ He was probably chasing after her horse again who likes to stray off. She explains to Derik all the time the horse always returns but he refuses and still goes after it.

"Your mother needs you out front; she wants you to meet someone," he says.

"Really? Alright, thank you Derik, help yourself to some food or water, take a break," she says walking past him out the front door.

"But—yes ma'am," he answers when she gives him a look to not argue.

* * *

"Mother?" She calls for her, lifting her skirts going down the couple of steps looking around the bowling green. No one in sight but the older people, some she didn't know because they are her mother's friends, conversing by their carriages readying to leave.

She walks around the side of the house, cutting through the breezeway to get to the backyard seeing her mother conversing and looking pleased with… _a young man._

Before Lilly could try ducking away and go back inside, her mother catches her eye calling her over.

"Here she is! The woman you're supposed to see," her mother smiles, setting her hand on her daughters back when she joins her, slowly.

Lilly blinks at the man before her, smiling, at his rugged attire, clean shaven face, and long wavy flaxen blond hair slicked up and behind his ears. _Boyish good looks and at least two years older than her,_ she thinks to herself.

"This is my daughter Lillian. Lillian this is Nathan Hale, your father sent him here to speak with you on the subject of business," her mother introduces.

"You're- you're him!" Lilly smiles breathlessly, and soon blushing red embarrassed at her outburst.

Nathan chuckles, "Seems like your father already told you about me, good things I hope."

"Nothing but good things, Mr. Hale," Lilly smiles offering her white, gloved hand when he reaches to place a kiss on it nervously.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Lillian, I heard nothing but good things about you too," he voices.

"And congratulations on graduating with first-class honors in '73. That is quite the accomplishment," she adds making the man's smile grow, and blue eyes light up.

"Indeed, thank you," he bows his head gentlemanly. "I congratulate you too on graduating with a Bachelor of Medicine. Now that is quite the accomplishment for a lovely lady as you."

Her mother hums delighted, seeing her daughter blush bowing her head in thanks, before walking off, "Well, I'll leave you two to it."

"Shall we take a walk?" Nathan offers his arm, and adding in a whisper near her ear, "To get away from all the pushy elders and their mannerisms?" Lilly blushes, looking down. _Father told him too much._

"I'd be delighted to," she agrees, taking his arm of rough fabric.

"Oh, take this," her mother comes back to give her a parasol that matches her outfit as well.

"Thank you," she smiles, giving her mother a look of irritation causing her to shake her head amused.

Opening the parasol, and setting the arm on her shoulder, holding the end of it, the two people walk towards a random path and stay on it, talking about everything and how much they have in common.

* * *

"Something tells me you're not one to wear all this, garb," Nathan gestures to her hat, gloves, and parasol. "You look beautiful, don't get me wrong."

"Thank you, but yes I am not one to wear all these accessories. Either you're just that observant, or my father has a big mouth," she grins at his boyish grin and shining eyes.

"Or both," he says. "No offense to my Excellency."

Lilly's mind starts to turn, remembering why he is here, "How is he? And how are all the soldiers?"

"Ah, he told me to tell you that he is doing just fine, unscathed and misses you so dearly. Not a day goes by where he doesn't picture you by his side in his study every day, commenting and writing his exact words were. You are of great help to him more than you may know," he smiles down at her as they slow down their pace; almost stopping it was so slow. "The soldiers I'm afraid not have escaped unscathed in some battles. The British defeated us at the Battle of Bunker Hill in Massachusetts where we had a good amount of loss. Despite our loss, the inexperienced colonial forces inflicted significant casualties against those redcoats, and the battle provided us with an important confidence boost."

Lilly lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, as her smile turned to a frown the moment he mentioned Bunker Hill that just happened in June. The battles are so far yet so close, it is terrifying.

"I'm gladdened to hear my father is well, and it is a shame I cannot say the same for the other men. I've been praying every night since I could remember, sometimes twice now since all this began. I know they will come through, we all will."

"Yes we will, no doubt about it. Now, let's not talk about the sorrow of battle, it is too much of a beautiful day. Let's not waste it," Nathan says squeezing her hand reassuringly and friendly.

"Okay," she smiles up at him. "What business did you come here for, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I assure you it is not for a game of match-up. It is for a… _confidential_ matter, that we will have to discuss in your father's office is what my orders were," he stresses the word confidential which has Lilly smiling knowingly back at the young soldier next to her. "But that will have to wait until later I'm afraid, when we aren't outside and no other people are around."

"Yes, of course. So we can talk about anything now," she wonders aloud.

"How about we talk about our schooling, you went to University of Pennsylvania?" He asks her with full interest and attention.

"Yes I did. As you know, I ended up getting a Bachelor of Medicine, the only female to do so. The other women there who were few didn't want to go the extra steps and spend more time. "

"The medical ethics? How is it any different from the training of average doctors?" He asks.

"It's not as haphazard and inconsistent anymore, but gradually more medical schools are starting to emerge to provide training that is more homogeneous and people can start going to school closer to home than travel to England. For the average doctors, a person could establish a reputation as a medic by nursing a sick acquaintance or selling curatives, which is starting to be looked on as untrustworthy," she explains.

"Much closer to home. I'm sure they are trying to make more institutions here to stay away from England. What did you achieve in your time there?" He takes the parasol from her hand, closes it, and straps it onto his back, seeing it was hurting her arm to keep holding it up.

"Thank you, you're a great man," she laughs making him chuckle hard. Now she stretches her arm, moving it back and forth and feeling the sun on her face. "But yes, I was able to write my theories on medicine and blood theory, and they received good praise. Other than that, studied a whole lot, slept, ate, and studied more. Some days they would surprise us by providing us with a body to examine and experiment on. I didn't get too involved with the experimenting; only the outer damages and blood study of course. I'm sorry, this is very disgusting and unladylike to talk about, some say it is morbid-"

"No! It is not disgusting at all! You studied it, so did many other people, it is a part of life to know these things even if one isn't a doctor. It isn't unladylike either, it is honorable to me."

"Thank you, it is nice to know someone understands."

"Everyone should understand. It is very fascinating, I know your works received much praise because if I'm not mistaken your theory was sent over to Yale, where it was the topic of debate amongst many men."

She stared at him with cow eyes, "No way!"

"You never knew?"

"No! That's amazing, and oh so nerve wrecking, what did they say about it, if you happen to know?"

He laughs, rubbing her upper back to help control her surprise, "They couldn't find anything to disagree with honestly. It is a valid theory. But they were surprised to find that it was a woman who wrote it, Lillian Washington, at that. That is what caused debate."

Her nostrils flare slightly as she looks down at the rocky path, "Of course, it is always the woman factor."

He stops their walking and his fingers tilt her chin to look up at him, "It angers me too, and my friends who were alongside me. It died down though, especially when they learned your name and coordinated you with George Washington. Now your theory is within our library being looked at for research by medically interested people. It is no small feat my lady, be proud and happy. It is time women begin to put men in their place. Now that is a new topic of debate I shall not get into."

She bursts out laughing, but shy all the same at all his compliments, "Thank you Mr. Hale-"

"Please, just Nathan, Miss."

"—Nathan, how was Yale?" She smells the flowers as they walk past the gardens, and hearing a whole flock of birds sing up in the trees and in the bird boxes.

"It was an experience like no other, an entirely different world from the isolated farming community where I had been raised. I belonged to the fraternity Linonia, which debated topics in astronomy, mathematics, literature, and the ethics of slavery. The most memorable one before I graduated with First Class honors was participating in the 1773 commencement debate: Whether the education of daughters be not without any just reason, more neglected than that of sons."

"Wow," Lilly breathes, amazed.

"Yes, indeed. That is the only comment I ever receive on that," he lightly laughs, and continues on with memory glazing his eyes.

"My time was full of activity, strong friendships, and varied interests, including helping to establish Yale's first secular library, where your theory sits on one of the many shelves or in the hands of an interested student this moment," he adds making the lady next to him smile brightly, making him smile I return.

"That is no small feat either. I'm sure you have many friends, you are a very likable and interesting person," she comments.

"Thank you Miss Lillian. But yes I have many close friends, very loyal and delightful. One man in particular is my best friend, Benjamin Tallmadge. He graduated alongside me and partaken in the women's debate with me. Mostly he and I helped defend your theory. He even went as far as to making a copy of it in Latin to assure its importance."

Lilly gasps, "That's why Pennsylvania asked me to sign the permission for Yale to do that. Unbelievable, I owe him, Benjamin Tallmadge? Yes, I owe him great thanks."

They both come across a bridge under construction above a pond, full of colorful fish, so they slowly walk upon it paying mind to no railing.

"I can answer that for you," he pauses before imitating his friend. With a straight erect posture, and a smile dangling at the corner of his lips, making himself blush, "You're welcome Miss Washington, but no thanks is necessary. I only did what was right and just."

She giggles, not knowing if the blush was part of the imitation or it was Nathan's own, "I don't know him, but it still seemed spot on to me. You were able to imitate him so that says a lot. He seems very much like the gentleman you are."

He laughs, "Aw, you know how to sweet-talk a man Miss Lillian. If only he were here, he'd kick my as—arse for doing this in front of the Continental Army General's daughter. He isn't skilled with women. That is the impression I was going for. But yes, he is very much a gentleman, if not more so than I am or could ever hope to be."

Lilly looks up at this man, the second one she met next to Albert Baker who was interesting as well. _How could he not think of himself as a gentleman? Perhaps he thinks he is too straightforward? He is friendly and outgoing that is for sure, maybe there is room for mishaps in that but overall, he is a good person of that I could tell,_ she thinks to herself.

"I'll be the judge of that—" her foot gets caught in a loose wooden board, causing her to fall over the right side of the bridge with Nathan right behind her, who was holding on to her.

Immersed in clear, cold, three feet of pond water, they both come up to the surface spluttering. Lilly's hat lies flat on her head, covering her eyes. She quickly takes it off and throws it out onto the grass, and she can finally see Nathan who is soaked just like her with his long coat stuck to him, highlighting his thin frame, but strong arms.

"I am so sorry-" Nathan's apology is cut off by hers.

"No I'm sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going. We shouldn't have gone across it," she says unclipping her hair from its half up-half down up do, letting it fall to its natural state because she is soaked after all.

"I should've reacted quicker, and maybe yes we shouldn't have crossed it," he explains. She only shakes her head before they burst out into laughter, out of embarrassment and amusement at the situation, and that they are still in the water.

"It feels good, I don't need a bath tonight now," Nathan jokes.

"Oh my gosh there's fish in here, get me out," she squeals seeing the big coy fish swim around her, and she goes to lift herself out the bank, but Nathan beat her to it by swimming across, pulling himself out, and grabbing her by the waist and hoists her up in less than seven seconds.

"Thank you, I had it though. Not that I'm scared of fish, I don't like them touching me," she says as they both continue to laugh.

He takes his hands off her waist, catching his breath, or so Lillian thought, "You're welcome Miss Lillian. I understand that all too well."

She takes her gloves off and rings them out, and puts them in her soggy hat that Nathan bent over to hand to her, gazing upon her as he did so in her drenched state.

"I'd offer you my coat, but I'm afraid it will do you no justice," he says fixing his coat collar.

"It's alright; it's not too far of a walk back. We'll just have some explaining to do when we get there," Lillian states, and Nathan realizes why she said so.

"Those women can't assume anything, I'm here and I will explain what happened, after you my lady," he offers her his arm and with that they head back to the mansion, down the path they came. Not realizing they spent almost the whole day talking, now it is approaching late afternoon.

 **A/N: VERY LONG CHAPTER, (sorry for those who don't like the long chapters.) It would have been longer, but it had to be split into two. The next one will be Nathan Hale and Lillian's "confidential" meeting and so forth. Any guesses on what? lol. Nathan Hale is another surprise character, he is neat to write about. And Benjamin was mentioned, poor Ben, being imitated by his best friend in front of his future woman... *cough* maybe *cough* You'lllllll seeeeeee. Any whom, I hope you enjoyed! It was a good chapter to write. Thank you for the amazing reviews! I appreciate it so much, I'm so happy you all love it! More to come! Maybe an update tomorrow?**

 **Til then, and thanks again**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	6. Chapter 6: Of Spies and Trust

Chapter 6:

The older people long since left the mansion in their carriages leaving only the younger adults who of which are now conversing by their carriages ready to leave, since it is approaching evening. Martha stands talking to the mother of Mary, who is the opposite in personality of her daughter. Mary's mother wore a friendly smile on her face the whole visit, and never stopped talking. Luckily for Lillian, when she met the woman earlier to be introduced to her daughter, the woman wasn't boring in speech like she'd thought she'd be, but rather very appealing and humorous.

The sloshing of boots and the swish of a wet dress is what silences the parting women. All eyes turned towards the man and woman arm and arm soaking wet.

"My-Lilly, what happened?" Martha is the first to speak up, taking one step towards the two people.

"Not what you think, she's waiting 'til marriage," Lilly hears Mary quip in the carriage to her sister who stifles a laugh.

"It was my fault Mrs. Washington. We were walking down the south path, and too caught up in pleasant conversation and the lovely weather, we came across a bridge over a pond. I should've spoke up that it looked under construction, but it looked safe enough to quickly go across to stay on path. That was until a loose board caught one of our feet and we toppled off into the water," Nathan defends while casting subtle glower at the carriage, having heard Mary's comment.

"Oh my. But are you two alright?" Mary's mother asks concerned.

"Yes Mrs. Catherine, we are, thank you," Lilly smiles at the friendly woman who in turn smiles back. "The good thing is that we enjoyed our time despite."

"Oh yes!" Catherine laughs amused, her blonde, high up do shaking as she does. She watches Nathan take the parasol off his back to give to Martha who said she'd take it. "I remember my husband and I having the same accident, but the aftermath was a little… different."

Nathan clears his throat awkwardly, and so does Martha. Lilly can only glare daggers at the carriage hearing another one of Mary's unwanted quips. Nathan gripped her arm in reassurance once more making her feel better on the inside.

"Oh, Mrs. Catherine, this is Mr. Nathan Hale. I don't believe I introduced," Martha speaks up, taking notice of Lilly's discomposure.

"How do you do ma'am?" Nathan asks gentlemanly, wet hair falling in his eyes.

"Well, thank you and you Mr. Hale?" she asks in turn.

"Also well thank you."

"Well you know me, I would love to stay and chat but the hour grows late. We'll definitely come back," Catherine gives a warm smile to Martha.

"Yes of course, you are always welcomed here. Any guests, we love to have people over," Martha says.

"That is too kind," Catherine comments with her unfading smile as she hugs Martha farewell, bows her head at Nathan who bows back, and comes to hug Lilly.

Lilly let go of Nathan's arm to hug the woman warmly and out of relief, having enjoyed her company over her daughter's by a long run.

"My, my, Lillian, you are quite tall for a lady," Catherine pulls back to look at the young Washington up and down.

"Really? You think so?"

"She must inherit it from her father, surely," Mary voices sending a sweet smile over to their direction. Unknown to the women, it was pointed towards Nathan.

"No Mary, she's adopted. Perhaps I'm just shrinking!" Catherine laughs resulting in everyone else too, it is contagious.

"Any whom, farewell! Until next time," Catherine says lastly as she is helped into the carriage by a slave, and once she is in, the slave signaled for the driver to go with a wave of his hand.

"Goodbye!" Martha and Lilly chorus together. As soon as the carriage was facing the other way, leaving the mansion, Lilly's face takes up a puckered brow.

"I know, I heard what Mary said," Martha exclaims to her daughter with a sigh. "I'm guessing your visit with her didn't go well?"

"It was alright, but no it didn't go well," she answers plainly, ringing out her gloves once more feeling a breeze whip past her making her shiver.

"Oh! Get inside both of you! You're wet, you must be freezing! I'm so sorry Mr. Hale," Martha pushes them towards the front door, and they go in quickly and eagerly.

"Its fine, I've been through more horrible situations. This was nothing compared to them," Nathan sends a smile down to Lilly who lets out a little laugh.

"Maria! Can you go bring Mr. Hale to his room? And start a warm bath if he would like one," Martha calls, and Maria quickly appears from around the corner.

"Yes ma'am. Right this way, sir," Maria leads Nathan to a guest room downstairs where his travelling bag is so he can change clothes.

"Can't wait to get out this cursed corset," Lilly grunts, scratching at her stomach as soon as Nathan is out of earshot.

"You should always wear this corset, it is one of the best ever made and holds you up well!" Martha holds back a sigh as her hands go to her daughter's chest and she pulls up her sleeves and the cups of the corset which hikes up her bosom.

"Please don't touch me it feels awkward. And I can't breathe! No wonder I was comfy after that fall, it slipped down," Lilly smirks but her mother frowns.

"You should've pulled it up, especially in front of that man."

"I didn't know! I don't wear these extra garments all the time! And here I thought the chest is supposed to be covered modestly."

Ignoring her comments, "I can see that. Now go change. I'll have some soup made, and afterwards I'm sure you and Mr. Hale have much to discuss. I suggest you dress comfortable."

Lilly smiles at her mother's care, "I know, comfortable and ladylike. My two favorite things."

"That's my girl. And… how do you like him?"

Lilly stops half way up the steps, and looks down at her mother from the railing to tell her the answer she's been waiting for, not the one she was hoping, "A friend and nothing more. A good friend."

"I see," Martha sighs once more, but doesn't frown. Her eyes only glisten with little worry watching her only daughter left go up the steps to her yellow room.

"I think I need to stop now. She'll meet someone one day, I hope," Martha whispers under her breath just as Maria travels back in the room with a towel to wipes the wet steps of the wooden staircase.

"She will. What's not to like about her?"

"The soup was delicious Mrs. Washington. It was just what I needed after my long journey," Nathan says pleased before taking another sip of his wine, finishing it in one swig.

"Thank you; it is an old family recipe. I'd always make it for George when he returned from travel," Martha smiles, blushing herself, before her eyes mist over thinking of her husband who won't be returning for a while.

"I assure you, when he returns safe and sound he will look forward to a splendid meal like this and to be in your great company once more," Nathan tells Martha who smiles brightly in thanks, bowing her head.

"I pray he does. We all do."

"Would you like some more wine?" Jacky asks the man next to him.

"No thank you. This is my limit," Nathan answers, setting his empty wine glass upside down on a napkin. "I believe before it gets any later, we must begin our meeting Miss Lillian."

"Yes of course. Right this way," Lilly stands up, smoothing out her grey silk, less formal _robe à l'anglaise_. It is a close-bodied gown or 'nightgown,' her favorite style of wear because of its straight sleekness, half sleeves, and slight poof of the skirt to where it isn't standing out like more formal dresses.

She gestures to the hallway, "Thank you mother for the dinner."

"Yes thank you," Nathan says adjusting his now dry blue coat.

"You're most welcome. Do you have the key?"

"Yes," Lilly takes the key out of the hidden pocket of her dress, and before she leads Nathan to her father's office, her brother gives his goodnight to the man, retiring early for the night to take care of his pregnant wife.

"A warm family you have Miss Lillian," Nathan comments kindly behind her as she jingles the key into the lock of the door to open it.

"Thank you, we try to be nothing but. And you can call me Lilly," she tells him, turning the knob to let the door creek open to the large dark office. She goes in first to light the candles throughout the room so the room can be bright enough to see.

"I believe it's my turn to say 'wow' now. Wow," Nathan exclaims, stunned by his surroundings. "It's better than I thought."

Lilly laughs, "Yes, my father has quite an office. It's sometimes too cluttered, but since he isn't here I took the liberty to organize as much as I can, while paying mind to everything he wants in their exact place."

"You are a good organizer then. I can't even imagine what it looks like cluttered," he says before letting out a whistle looking at the array of swords on one of the white walls, "These are beauties."

"Some of those are mine. He took most of his with him of course, leaving his older ones behind. These over here," she points to the section of swords he is looking at, "are mine. I'd design different styles with him when we weren't busy. Well when he wasn't busy."

"Very impressive. Forged by a very skilled blacksmith to create such detail. I'll have to go to him before I leave here to sharpen my weapons. You have an eye for design," he comments thoughtfully, the candle light reflecting the array of swords in his engrossed blue orbs.

"Thank you. Yes definitely pay him a visit, I'll let Maria know and she'll take you to him. Now, feel free to sit anywhere. The hour is growing late as we speak," she tells him, walking towards her father's fan chair behind his desk.

"Of course. I must start by asking, who is this British soldier you speak to? Your father spoke of him," He asks with eyes that turn from friendly to wariness.

"His name is Albert Baker, titled Ensign Baker, based in Setauket Long Island. I knew him before he was enlisted by his die hard loyalist father," she spits the word 'loyalist' staring at the burning candle. "He was patriot like us Nathan. In fact he still secretly is, at least I hope. He supports our cause. But forced by his step-father to save his family's name, it caused our friendship to fall. He writes to me to this day information on the British, little and not so detailed, but information nonetheless. I don't respond to him."

His eyes hold shock, "I'm sorry, he was patriot? Or _is still one_? What a coward."

Lilly felt a pang in her chest hearing Nathan call her friend a coward. She stopped herself from thinking further on that, almost defending Albert Baker. _Maybe I should._

"Like I said, I hope he still is one, he writes me still and gives me intelligence. He writes like a British officer would, but I sense his own voice sometimes as if dropping his role," she hands Nathan one of his letters that have no lovey-dovey phrases towards her. "He's holding a big secret. Scared to death I imagine, we all are."

Nathan silently reads the letter in his chair across form her word for word.

"This was information on Bunker Hill. Unbelievable. Did you send this to your father?" He waves the letter.

"Of course, but I received no word back. It was when he wrote me after the outcome of the battle that it must've been intercepted. If only we thought of encrypting it or sending it some other way."

Nathan slaps the letter angrily on the desk standing up brusquely, "It could've saved lives! We could've won!"

"I'm aware. At least you didn't hold guilt all this time knowing about it, and finding out your letter didn't make it. We can't do anything about it now. And like you said, the battle was a much-needed confidence boost."

His face drastically softens, and apologetically he says, "Right. I'm sure your father told you to not feel guilty, it isn't your fault. I'm sorry for my anger; I didn't mean it towards you."

"He did," a ghost of a smile crosses her face, missing her father, and waving off Nathan's apology. "But before and after that letter he got less detailed in the intelligence. I almost doubt him."

"May I see them? The ones after?"

"I'm afraid I burned them, but I did keep one, and wrote the intelligence from them all in here," she reaches for her journal, opening to the page where the recent intelligence is along with the letter.

"Good," he says taking the book, immediately reading it. "You're right; I'm not buying this either. Ensign you called him? That's why, he isn't around much high up discussion."

He reads the letter next, " _Prepare to be in open rebellion this autumn._ Now that doesn't sound good."

"A serious warning going by the tone of it."

"Very. This leads to me asking you to refrain from writing letters to your father on this intelligence, his orders were. Even if it's with a personal letter from you and your mother, it can't be risked. From now on I'll be the one you send them to, and I'll report to my Colonel Charles Webb. This will then go to your father. See, he's been trying to get me through the British lines to spy, but no chances have come up yet," Nathan exclaims folding the letter back up and handing it to the woman sitting cross legged in the chair across.

"Alright, will do," she agrees thinking of her father. They haven't been in strong communication as of late and she misses him greatly. Her mother got to see him this past April at his camp, but she didn't get to go for reasons of protection. She knows she'll see her father at some point, she _has_ to.

"Good. So far the intelligence is little on my end. All is quiet, and which is probably why your Baker friend hasn't much to say either. I am impressed with him, but I don't like him."

She chuckles, "You sound like my brother. If only you knew the history of it."

"From this," he points to the letter on the desk, "and what you told me on your friendship with him, you two loved each other didn't you?"

Lilly's smile falls, and looks down, "We did. He still does, but I don't return it as much as I once did. What am I saying! He doesn't love me; he joined the British forces for goodness sakes."

"After reading his little poem on that letter, he still holds his heart for you. I'm sure he left you with the words he is doing it for your own safety."

"He did."

"Then he loves you."

Lilly can only be silent, feeling like an idiot, but that feeling quickly goes away.

"But there are ways he could've avoided joining the red's. He had to make his horrible father happy over his and my own happiness," she explains solemnly.

Nathan lets out a long breath, "Now I can see why you feel the way you do. I don't blame you. It is time to move on your part. Besides, there are other suitable men out there."

He grins pointing to himself making her outright laugh. It was then she noticed the shadow of a figure under the crack of the door, listening. _Mother._ But the figure left. _He knew she was standing outside..._

"You clever man! But I will inform you that I already told her I consider you a good friend," she beams when he returns it, with his toothy grin, and laughs at him putting a hand to his heart as if stabbed.

"It hurts! But I cannot argue with that. I'm happy with just being good friends. Now, I think this wraps up our discussion. There's not much more business to talk about," He exclaims, standing up with her. "It will probably be our only meeting for some time. Letters will be our only correspondence."

"Don't say that, I'm sure we will see each other soon. If only it wouldn't be on grave matters."

"Well even if we don't see each other throughout this war, we will see each other after the war, which I promise on better terms," he says taking her hand, planting a kiss on her knuckle, before leaving the room. "I'm glad Tallmadge convinced me to join in the cause, just recently too. _'Our holy Religion, the honour of our God, a glorious country, and a happy constitution is what we have to defend.'_ And I met you, the wonderful daughter of Washington," he adds casting a look behind him to her, taking in the moonlight shining on her grey gown. "This country is worth whatever price I have to pay, even my own life."

"You are a great man Nathan, and you are just the gentleman this Tallmadge is as you say he is," she informs him warmly, appreciating greatly he didn't say one word about her being adopted.

"Then you'd be the first. But thank you. Goodnight Miss Lillian. See you in the morning," he voices tiredly, but with his same smile, if not more happier after what she told him. It was unexpected, but it gave him the utter and genuine acceptance he's longed for, and to think he just met her. What she just told him is what people who probably knew him for years couldn't tell him.

"Goodnight Nathan," she smiles, watching him walk out the room and shut the door before she blows out the candles, leaving only one lit so she can continue to sit in the office with just herself, in her own thoughts about her father and the perilous war, but they somehow stray to Albert Baker before she drifts off to sleep. She dreams of his friendly aura, big smile, sharp, smooth features, and kind eyes. Eyes full of love all for her.

 _"You'll be the death of me Miss Lillian," Albert Baker silvery says pulling her into his arms by a nearby tree overlooking the Potomac River._

 _She shrugged with a smile adorning her lips, "Sorry. Rest in peace." She then squeals with laughter as he peppered her face with kisses and his chest rumbling with the deep laughter of his, and held onto him tightly when she felt her feet be lifted off the ground, and put back down as soon as he kissed the part of her cheek where it meets her ear._

 _It was then he almost touched her lips with his, and he stopped._

 _"I never kissed anyone before," Lilly said honestly, looking up at him with her naturally innocent brown eyes, enough to make any man go wild, but Baker can only feel his smile and heart grow bigger, and warmth spread all throughout him._

 _"Neither have I. but I think we should wait," he said grasping her hands. "The longer we wait, the more we'll appreciate it. And it'll only strengthen us."_

 _Lilly smiles sweetly up at him, "I agree, plus we're not courting, it wouldn't be right. You're a very great gentleman. It almost makes me want to kiss you."_

 _He put a finger to her lips, "As cute as you are and how tempted I am, no, we must wait."_

 _She kisses his finger that is on her lips making them both burst with laughter once more._

 _"I don't think there was or ever will be a moment when I won't laugh with you," he tells her fondly._

 _"Same here Alby," she takes his hand and they walk back down the bank of the Potomac enjoying their evening stroll with several dogs following behind them._

 _"Did I ever tell you that you have too many dogs? You do," he says petting the big one that jumped up at him._

 _"Just wait until you see the chickens, geese, deer—" she is cut off by her own hilarity making him shake his head with amusement._

When morning came, she found herself in her father's office still, morning light shining bright through the curtains, with the candle smoke blowing up towards it.

"Rise and shine," Maria smiles at Lilly, bringing her some leftover breakfast she missed and coffee. "Hercules spared you some of the breakfast."

"Thank you Hercules," Lilly mumbles drowsily but gratefully thinking of their brilliant chef. Breakfast is her favorite meal made by him.

"Your mother told me to just leave you in here last night when we found you asleep. You had a long day."

"It was a long day. What time is it? How much did I miss?" Lilly still blinks the sleep out of her eyes, shielding them form the morning light feeling the heat of the coffee hit her face with its steam. She feels her hair sticking up in all directions, and smiles when hair falls in her eyes to block the sun.

"It must be only eight o' clock. You didn't miss much. Nathan has been with the blacksmith since six. He had breakfast, and asked for you," Maria tells her, moving the smoking candle out the way. "He's departing today after lunch I believe."

"He is. A shame he can't stay longer, I made another friend," she says quietly, taking small bites of eggs and bacon.

Maria smiles at her friend, "Well eat up, and get dressed so you can enjoy the rest of your time with him. Your clothes are laid out on your bed. And I must say, I miss your company, I'm jealous."

"Be jealous," Lilly says while putting the cup to her mouth, drinking coffee, and receiving a little flick on her forehead from Maria's fingers before she pushes the hair out of her friend's face. "You have my company now don't you?" She now smiles.

"Yeah that's true—"

"Maria!" Martha called from somewhere in the house.

"Not anymore. I'll see you later Lilly," Maria laughs with her friend, fixing her own hair in a bun, before leaving the room as Lilly cleared her whole plate and cup of coffee.

The young woman soon stood from her place at her father's desk, being sure to bring out her tray and empty cup to give to a servant walking in the hallway, and shutting the office door behind her. She makes her way to her room to get dolled up for the day ahead of her, thinking back on her and Nathan's meeting. _Did I tell him everything?_

It was after lunch Nathan was delivered a new sword from the blacksmith, one of Lilly's designs making her smile proudly. She watches the man look at it from her place in the parlor, on a stool on front of a harp as she gently plays _Vivaldi's Allegro harp concerto._

Coming to a close, plucking one last string, the man applauds with the other servants in the room, who were passing through and happened to stop to listen to their lady play. She shyly smiles and mumbles a 'thank you' watching the servants leave the room to continue their work.

"That put an ease to any nerves I had," Nathan grins, leaning back against the white, finely sculpted fire mantle.

"You? Nerves? No," Lilly grins back, standing from the stool to pick up and hold his new, shining sword resting on the table. "He was already working on this one. This one was fun to draw. And you got a small dagger to match, cute."

"I bet—wait cute?" He lets out a breath of laughter.

"It's a small sword and it matches the larger one. It's a set."

"Women and their matching, I'll never understand. Any whom, it is balanced like a tuning instrument," he says letting his finger glide along the smooth, silver side of the dagger she was holding, following up to the well carved and painted handle. "Sometimes all it takes is a song to _tip_ the battle in your favor."

Saying 'tip,' he took the hilt off the dagger to reveal a little hole inside the blade.

"I was surprised to be told this was an option. You should tell your blacksmith to not ask just anyone if they want part of the blade hollow. It could be used for far serious tasks such as spying."

"Oh right, I forgot to tell you I design some that way, mostly the small swords and daggers," she says now remembering what she forgot to tell him. "This is how I was planning on communicating with my father. Slipping whatever intelligence I have in the blade, and sending out the weapon or weapons to him. It's been a work in the making, but since you said I can't contact him I guess I'll have to put it aside-

"No, don't put it aside," he breaks her speech. "It's a very smart idea. In fact, we may have something going here. Forget my orders—"

"But they were orders-"

"I know. But technically, this isn't communicating. It's sending weapons for the cause," he smiles down at her knowingly, his smile growing watching hers grow.

"Imagine how much information we can send about," he adds.

Her smile falls, "No, you can't tell anyone else just yet. And there's the matter of them figuring out why they got a sword in the mail. They won't know to open it."

"If we send it with a loose hilt, but not enough to be noticeable or fall off—"

"Send it to who else? My father, you—"

"A certain Baker in Setauket, perhaps," Nathan says twirling the dagger in his hand. "The star-crossed lovers must communicate with each other. But if I don't know any better, the British look through the mail sometimes."

She glares at him for saying star-crossed lovers, "Which is why I use my biological last name, Lillian _Kennedy_. Washington anywhere on paper, especially in that Long Island town from what I'm told by Baker, can start some suspicion."

"Smart girl. There you go, continue using that last name, and respond to him. I know it would mean to world to him. How does he know his letters come through to you?"

"He doesn't, he can only hope they do. I'm sure he does know though, he's optimistic like me," she tells him causing him to bark out laughter.

"He doesn't know but he does, and you're both optimistic. All the more you should get back in touch with him with the help of this dagger to communicate more freely, O Juliet, seek out thou Romeo," he jokes.

She snatches the dagger out of the air mid flip when he was twirling it, "I believe the dagger involved in that tragedy ended up being death. 'O happy dagger! This is thy sheath; there rust and let me die!"

"We all face death, Miss Lillian. We can only choose how to face it when it comes. Look at it this way, I have a dagger, and if you send one to your father, we can all risk death even though we're not lovers."

She deeply inhales as her eyes widen.

"That may have been a bad reference to that tragedy, let's forget everything said on that. It was a mere fictional play," he quickly says before taking her shoulders and pulling her close, leaving appropriate space in between them. "I promise you no one will die. This is smart, and real. I know this can be done if we do it right."

While looking down she nods her head, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He tilts her chin up, "I'm one to stay true to my promises. You have to trust me my dear. No trust, no us."

She softly smiles at his endearment, and decides to let her gaze of restraint to his words drop, "Alright. I trust you. Don't fail me."

"Never," he smiles, pulling her hand up to kiss the back of her hand. "And don't you fail me. Now, I'll have to ready my things so I can depart. The road is long ahead of me."

"If you need help feel free to ask anyone," she tells him watching him walk to his quarters, deep in her own thoughts.

"Will do."

Martha and Lilly stand outside the front of their house where the steps meet the gravel, with Nathan tending to his horse that Derik brought from the stables.

"Boy you're sweating like a fountain. I'm sure you can take a break," Nathan tells the dark man helping him strap his belongings onto the horse.

The slave smiles kindly, said sweat glistening on his brow and arms, "I did sir. I'm just known as the 'sweat-man' around here. I chase after horses all day that break free, and dogs that go after deer, other chases. I chase mostly after Miss Lilly's horse, he's a bad one. Believe me when I say bad."

Nathan can only laugh heartily at his words, "I believe you. He gets it from his owner I assume," he glances back at Lilly who glares impishly.

Derik shrugs, not knowing how to respond to that, "I wish you safe travels sir."

"Thank you," he bows his head to the man who leaves as soon as he came. "And thank you again Mrs. Washington, Miss Lillian," he calls over to them when he jumps on his black mare.

"You're most welcome! Do come visit soon," Martha calls with her usual warm smile, and Lilly wears hers.

"I'll try my hardest, but I have a meeting with duty. Hopefully it won't be long, farewell!" He calls lastly before riding off slowly on the gravel road, and when he reaches soil down the road, his horse picks up speed, both disappearing into the fray.

Unknown to Martha, and Lilly, this would have been the last time they truly saw him. For now, they go back inside, and Lilly begins writing rough drafts of her letter to Albert Baker, keeping her promise.


	7. Chapter 7: Smallpox Letters

**A/N: I apologize for the long wait! Life got busy, and I had writer's block deciding what to do. I finally finished this chapter and have a clear idea now what to do. Please enjoy!**

Chapter 7:

 _Dear Ensign Baker,_

 _I know. It has been a long while. I'm sorry for catching you by surprise. No amount of words can be said on how sorry I am for not responding to your letters that I have been receiving. Yes, we agreed that you'd write me even though I wouldn't respond, but that was a horrible agreement we made. I should respond, not only because it is the proper thing to do, but I truly miss communicating with you despite what you had done to me. We were friends before after all, and I hope we still are. You left me in a lot of ache and sorrow the day you announced we couldn't be together anymore, or ever, but since then I've accepted some more people into my closed off circle and they helped me through my time of hurt. Please, do not feel bad. It is all behind us now and I have forgotten my heart was ever hurt. Now, on the subject of your past letters, thank you. Please see the dagger, my gift to you made from my own design, with help from the blacksmith of course, I cannot play with fire that well. You know this._

 _How are you? Life for me here hasn't changed much. I miss father immensely as I continue in my hobby of painting, playing my harp, and undergoing torture from unwanted visitors who seek to annoy me. Not to mention the suitors who come and go, and I can only say no to their proposals. Of late, little to none have been showing up or writing. Is this of your doing? You manage to somehow make me smile still, straying into my thoughts when I don't want to think of anything or anyone._

 _I pray you and the family you were billeted at are doing well, and safe. I look forward to hearing from you, Alby._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Lillian Kennedy_

Lilly read over her letter several times before finally putting it next to an empty box. She then picks up the other letter, which will go inside the dagger discussing the intelligence:

 _Albert,_

 _Good, you figured out what I meant. This will be means of communicating on intelligence from now on when you come across any. At least I hope you're still on our side, the Patriot side that is. Your Bunker Hill information was great, and it could've helped us a lot if it wasn't for my letter to father being intercepted, costing us the battle._

 _Please burn this letter once receiving, do and act as you see fit. I guess this means I trust you still? Yes, I do, somehow.  
Your optimistic friend, Lilly_

With that said and done, she puts the short letter into the hollow dagger, and puts the sheathe on securely.

"This better work," she mumbles to herself as she slides the letter of 'getting back in touch' into its envelope, and sealing it with just a plain wax seal, not her family's coat of arms or her initials.

She then puts the dagger into a cushioned box, and closes the lid, locking it.

* * *

It was during winter of 1775 Lilly finally got a response from Albert "Ensign" Baker.

In a house alone, sick with a mild case of smallpox because she inoculated herself, she sits by the fire place in the main parlor underneath a blanket reading one of her favorite books, _Evelina,_ as snow falls heavily outside like white down feathers of a pillow being ripped apart. Probably not wise to inoculate herself in the winter, but staying in a warm house by the fire, taking medicine when needed, and not going outside at all, she can get better normally.

This sentimental novel, _Evelina_ , has notions of sensibility and early romanticism, and satirizes the society much to her amusement. The main character, Evelina, reminds Lilly of herself in some aspects, and ironically, almost similar to her current life she is living. Almost.

"In all ranks and all stations of life, how strangely do characters and manners differ!" Lilly reads aloud coughing, and smiling at this connection of intelligence and perceptiveness when it comes to making judgments about those around her.

Her mother Martha had gone to George's winter encampment at Cambridge to be with him, just the two of them, again. She's not too downcast about it, rather pleased she isn't travelling in this snow. She is also one to follow her father's wishes to stay behind, for safety, get inoculated for smallpox so she can make the next trip, and see to it Jacky 'behaves' himself her father joked. However, her father's letter from beginning of December confirmed that she will indeed see him next winter:

 _My Dearest Lilly_

 _I have written to you in your mother's letters, but this is the first of many letters from me personally to you to come into your hands during this time of conflict, so I will do my hardest to make this letter extra special, my sweet one. To start, I have good news. Your mother and You will be able to visit me at my winter encampment every year during the long winter months when the fighting will certainly be at a standstill starting next winter. The locations of these encampments will come to be acknowledged in time, and I will tell as soon as I know. As I always love you and your mother's company, and I miss you both greatly at every waking moment, I regard you and your mother's presence as so essential to the cause that I sought reimbursement from Congress for your traveling expenses. I apologize for not allowing you to make the trip this past spring and this winter, I only seek your safety, health, and comfort. I worry just as any parent would, and should. You are also my young girl until you turn nineteen, well, you'll always be my little girl. Therefore I also didn't want you around men ogling you. I'm afraid that'll happen despite, not that it's a bad thing, I'm glad people see you as attractive, but I know how you are around men._ (Lilly giggled at this assertion and read over his stumbles words at this part).

 _Besides this, coming at a time of harsh conditions in the future, there is risk of infection and disease amongst my men therefore I advise you to get inoculated for smallpox- I trust that you have the knowledge and skill to do so yourself with no other doctor in need. I know you inoculated your mother this past spring and I thank you, my skilled girl. In the meantime, be attentive to the mail, my other letter with my gift to you will be with it._

 _I wish you, Jacky, and Nellie all my love, and deep condolences for Nellie's loss._

 _Always,Your father,_

 _George Washington_

The gift was one of the daggers she sent to him, having sent two but he kept one liking it much, deeming it good to have on his person and it was created by his daughter. _Nothing like having your children's creations with you at work, except this creation beats any art or doodles by far,_ he said. The dagger he sent back contained a letter inside, explaining how he forgives Nathan Hale for not following his orders on telling her to refrain from sending intelligence, how much he likes this clever idea, and to stay in touch with this method on means of secret messages. He also said he is in the process of contacting civilians interested in obtaining intelligence on the plans of the British enemy forces. So far, no one wishes to, but Lilly is confident that will change. They both know she won't always be able to come through, or Baker.

Her family has relatives and neighbors who are adamant loyalists. She'll never forget her mother in the beginning of the war; her heart was troubled until she realized that her heart was with the patriots. This is also why Lilly is struggling with friendships with people around her age. She has none in the world outside her home. Of course she is distant friends with every patriot, whether her mother and she have come into contact with or not, because of their role as a symbol for the patriot cause. But a real friend, someone by her side and knows her, a connection that lives in the heart, is hard to come by.

"Lilly, I have some mail for you," Maria saunters in wearing her red floral head wrap and with a bundle of letters in her hands.

Lilly folds the corner of her page slightly before closing her book, "About time we get some mail, I was getting bored."

"Oh that's not good, you being bored," Maria grins at her friend who reaches desperately for the letters to read. "And you're sick, a horrible combination."

"Nah she'll get better real soon. She is more of a carrier," Jacky comes in the parlor with his glass of wine, ducking from the pillow that was flung at him weakly. "See? She is in the process of getting better, a strong doctor she is. It is her duty to get better so she can heal those ill around her."

"Shh! You're ill! But I'm afraid your condition of _**Idiot** itus_ can't be healed," Lilly shushes him while coughing, getting rid of the tickle in her throat, and putting a hand on her forehead because of the headache. "Let me read in silence or get out."

His mouth drops, faking surprise, "Rude. Is it from Romeo?"

She glares at him from the open envelope, "Don't call him that. Only Nathan can."

"It really is a clever nickname—tell me the details later, Lady Capulet," Jacky says leaving the room, to continue drinking his wine elsewhere. Since his wife Eleanor, or 'Nellie,' lost the baby, they both have been depressed and keeping to themselves. Jacky drinks his usual wine, but now with downcast eyes, and Nellie stays in her room sleeping or Martha's bedchamber to read the Bible or pray. A horrible time for them now, but like any couple who has a miscarriage, they will keep trying, and Lilly is confident they will have a beautiful baby in their arms by the end of next year.

After seeing he is gone, and Maria leaves the room, she begins reading Albert's letter:

 _Miss Lillian,_

 _It is extremely heartening to hear from you for it has been a very long while! Being told by the man whose home I am billeted at, saying a letter from a woman came, caught me by surprise truly. You are the first person to write me, and the only one that may ever will; the only woman too. No, do not apologize for your past actions you were in every right to act and do as so. It is proper to respond yes, but after what I had done to you, it hurts to imagine. I know what I had done to you, and I am hurting every day because of my foolish choice. What a stupid man I am, a stupid friend to have left you so! I am still your friend after all I did? I'm not sure I can believe this. To think I thought every day since I left that I was still your friend… I missed communicating with you too. I'm very, very sorry for causing you ache and sorrow. If I could, I'd come visit you before winter ends since the fighting is at a standstill everywhere, and prove to you I am still the man I once was, and still is. I'll let you decide in time. But duty has me here, glued in place even though it isn't much. Standing around, training, on guard, training for being on guard- I'm surprised I can go to a house at the end of the day to sleep and eat it is so much vigorous work, but worth it. I wish greatly I didn't follow my stepfather's wishes, but at the same time I still thank him because I did become a greater man, a man I wanted to become for you. If only it wasn't on the other side._

 _Yes, I received your gift and figured it out, it is a lovely dagger I must say. Since it is so lovely, and special, I keep it hidden and not on my person. The British militia is required to be armed with certain weapons, and if I am caught with this weapon, it wouldn't be good results. I either follow regulations or I am done for. They do not check the mail here because it is a small, seaside town-beautiful in its own way. So they do not think such acts of espionage will be conducted here, yet at least. I ask you to refrain from detailing letters with our secret messaging on intelligence because I do not wish for you to get caught if they do end up checking letters before giving out._

 _So many paragraphs, I apologize, but there is so much I have to say. I had to practice writing several times in order to get my thoughts together. I am well, considering what I mentioned above. I only wear a white wig, red coat, rifle in hand, and a regulated hat as far as my change in appearance. I know you miss your father and I'm sorry he's been driven around of late and losing some battles. Sorry for the Bunker Hill information not making it to him. I wish him the best. Suitors? You have me laughing from afar, of course I had no part in them not showing up. Perhaps I should try making a visit, to scare any others off to rid of any pressures of annoyance you have. An intimidating British officer should do the job just fine. I'm glad I can make you smile, but I fear you don't want me in your mind going by your words._

 _Everyone is well and safe; they thank you for your concern. We will stay in touch, and yes, I'd like to think I'm still patriot. I'll send intelligence as soon as I come across it. Thank you for your trust and time._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Albert "Ensign" Baker_

Lilly's mouth remained agape as she sat there, rereading some parts of the letter over and over again until tears took up her eyes, and she fell over on the couch, curling in a ball under her blanket and crying, thinking of her poor friend in a part he doesn't want to play. _Wait but he does! He did it for me! If only it wasn't the other side he said…._ She continues musing to herself, not even noticing Maria coming in to check on her, hearing her soft crying. _He didn't have to!_

"Is he well?" Maria asks her friend.

"Yes, very well. I'm glad—" she coughs, "I'm glad I reestablished contact with him. He's still on our side."

"I'm… glad to hear that? I would hope he is on 'our side,'" Maria quotes with her fingers.

"Gosh what a guy!" Jacky called from the other room with feigned fondness, soon laughter.

"But he didn't have to go," Lilly mumbles confusedly, glaring in the direction her brother's voice came from with more unnecessary remarks.

"I'll deal with him Lilly, don't get worked up. You received other mail too, one looked like a familiar name, I couldn't help but notice it. Tallmadge? Nathan mentioned him sometimes," Maria informs before walking to the room over to speak to Jacky on matters of privacy for his sister. Normally this wouldn't happen in the typical home with slaves, but the Washington home, their family and slaves, 'servants,' get along like family.

"Tallmadge?" Lilly looks over to the bundle of letters with blurry eyes and a red nose as she sits upright, and grabs the bundle to sift through it. Finally she finds a sloppy envelope with horrible penmanship with the name _Benjamin Tallmadge_ on it, almost a scribble if it wasn't for the last name being written clear enough.

"Why would he write me? I do not know him," she mumbles to herself, opening the letter only to have her guffaw at the inadequate layout of paragraphs, almost sonnet like. "Sloppy writing, I'm surprised. And it's a love letter of interest in me, good heavens. Maria come quick!"

She reads:

 _Miss Lillian Washington,_

 _I have heard your name from afar on this Long Island since it was rumored you went to college,_

 _Just like I, class of '73. I admire women like you: smart, fierce, and overall fine-looking._

 _I don't always think women are beautiful, but when I do, they will most likely be the only one for me because I only seek one to love forever, thanks to my reverend father, making me the virgin I am in my humble twenties._

 _Oh the rumors I hear from men all around about your beauty—long hair, big brown eyes, a big smile, a big bust—don't even get me started on your lovely choice in fashion and learning, accentuating your qualities inner and outer. I can't imagine what else is big on you._

 _I assure you my heart is big enough to hold you inside it; I'll let you be the judge on my other handsome assets._

 _I translated your blood paper years ago, in the romantic timeless language of Latin: In genere sunt ._

 _I can translate much more if you wish, if you know what I mean. I would love to meet you, and get to know you. For now I only see you in my dreams at night, picturing you in my arms, pressed together tightly… translating each other. You heavenly goddess! You're the only goddess who could ever exist in my eyes other than the Almighty God._

 _Signed,_

 _Benjamin Tallmadge_

Lilly and Maria sit with jaws dropped, appalled.

"How dare he!" Lilly shoots up from the couch, angrily and red faced, from being sick and from her rising temper. "How dare he, how dare he—How. Dare. He! Please burn my eyes along with this indecent paper!"

Watching her friend fume, and sneeze from breathing too much, Maria takes the letter from her, "Oh he couldn't have. He must've been drunk—"

"VERY drunk! Or he isn't the gentleman Nathan said he was," Lilly paces in the parlor, cold feet on the cold wooden floorboards. "Nathan wouldn't lie to me though. He always gave me his word."

"It is inappropriate—"

"Very!" Lilly cuts in. "This Tallmadge was a Yale student! They should be well-expressed in speech."

"Well he kind of is..."

Lilly sharply looks at her friend.

She coughs awkwardly, "Some think it is attractive when men write like this."

"I don't!" Lilly shouts.

"But maybe he didn't write it," Maria says slowly. "His signature doesn't match his writing at all."

Lilly turns around, not strong enough to raise an eyebrow, and walks over to see the letter. Sure enough, his signature didn't match, it was in fact finely written as if signing an official document.

"I want to believe he didn't, but it sounds so… honest. It goes by what Nathan told me and everything, he can always speak his mind. Then he could've been drunk the night he wrote it, and the next day signed it," she groans, "So many theories! What a nasty, horrible—

"I know it's horrible Lilly, but keep your head. Let's think positive, he probably didn't mean it if he was drunk," Maria says calmly.

"The son of a reverend? Come on! I expect far more decency than that! He should have been able to realize what he wrote. Oh I will not forget this, just wait until—"Lilly feels a warm blanket wrapped around her as she is pushed over to the green embroidered imported carpet where her feet are not as freezing any more.

Maria puts a hand on her hot forehead, looking at the small rash on her face from the smallpox, "Don't waste your anger on this trash. Have no anger; you're burning up as it is. Do not tell anyone, this is personal. And your parents do not want to know such talk was spoken to you, real or not."

"Right, it is," Lilly breathes out, calming down as she is ushered over to the couch to lie back down. "Nathan is an honest man. He said he was a true gentleman."

"You see, your friend knows what he is talking about. Trust his word on that baby," Maria tells her with a smile, covering the rich green, thick cotton blanket on her once more. "I don't think he wrote it."

"I guess. Trust has been the popular word lately," she sighs, accepting it for now.

"Good," Maria says about to go get some dinner ready. "Now we'll talk more if you want when you get better because I am wondering how he got the rumor on your 'big bust,' it ain't that 'big.' "

Lilly groans, covering her face with the blanket, "No more. Get out."

Maria can't help but laugh quietly to herself, shaking her head going to the kitchen, and only laughing out loud when she hears her friend's words, "It may not be big, but it is a good enough size! I'm satisfied and that's all that matters!"

"Do I want to know?" Maria hears Jacky ask in the parlor, passing through to help in the kitchen.

"Go drown yourself in wine," Lilly coughs out, and getting quiet after that, letting much needed sleep take her, her last thoughts being _'why would he write me?'_

"Don't mind if I do," Jacky retorts with a chuckle.

* * *

~ _January 1776_

The New Year came like every other year, quietly and quick, like falling asleep on a regular week night and waking up the next morning the same. There was no celebration this year at the Mt. Vernon mansion due to Martha, one of the true hosts, not being there. Plus Lilly was still ill, even if she herself wanted to throw a get-together she couldn't without risking others catching the sickness.

Recovering from her small pox inoculation by the beginning of January, she can now walk freely outside and function normally with no fever. Only dried skin and fading rashes located on parts of her face and body, only more reason to cover up more and wear a hood. Still a winter month, the Potomac frozen over, and snow lightly falling leaving everything white, she rides her father's Arabian stallion Magnolia through the Mt. Vernon estate.

Young Magnolia was left behind because she is a racing horse who races in Alexandria, not the type to endure battle. Her father's other two horses, his favorites: Nelson and Blueskin, he took with him to ride throughout the war.

With her dark purple cloak blowing behind her in the small gusts of wind every now and then, wind swirling on the ground and the air causing snow to spiral, she rides Magnolia at a slow pace through all the winding paths of the slave's quarters making sure they are inside warm and well.

The occasional slave man is outside with a shovel, shoveling the snow back from their little front yard or walkway, and immediately looking up to their lady's face bowing their heads in friendly greeting and respect.

"Miss Lillian," They would say.

In turn, she would say their name upon recognizing them, with a smile. Having 300 or more slaves is tough to remember all names, but it is possible to memorize even if it still takes time.

Watching dark smoke emit from all the chimneys into the white sky down the path and sees no one else in sight, it gives her the assurance they are all inside and warm. If windows weren't clouded from frost, ice, or snow, she could see either a couple, single individual, or family gathered around their fireplace doing something productive or relaxing to occupy their free time.

Turning the horse around, she makes her way back to the stables to put the horse back with the others, while thinking on the way of all the huge events that had happened already during this time of war. King George III issued a royal proclamation closing American colonies to all trade and commerce on the day before Christmas Eve. It is to take effect in March of all times, right when spring begins where people would need fresh goods and supplies after this winter. Since then, everyone has been reading the recently published and popular 50 page pamphlet _Common Sense_ written by Thomas Paine. It is highly critical of King George III and attacks allegiance to Monarchy in principle while providing strong arguments for American independence. It became an instant best-seller in America for that reason. _'We have it in our power to begin the world anew...American shall make a stand, not for herself alone, but for the world,'_ Lilly thinks to herself with a thoughtful smile on her lips.

"Yes she will make a stand. Indeed not for herself alone."

* * *

~ February 1776 ~

Lilly stands outside her home's front door steps, dressed in her finest clothing because she will be in the presence of Continental officers who have escorted her mother back from Cambridge. With Maria standing at the front door, both women stand poised and proper, hands folded in front of them watching the carriage and cavalry of men approach closer.

"It's only four," Lilly lets out a sigh of relief, knowing her friend is eye-rolling at her comment.

"Of course he wouldn't send his whole army to ensure your mother's protection," Maria calmly states. "Well, maybe he wishes too, my mistake. But he wouldn't send more men than normal; he's against matching you up on his own."

She smirks, "Actually, I'm relieved it's just four. It's an even number, he knows I hate odd numbers," her lady remarks, who is looking in the distance, causing her to outright laugh. "And yes you know my father by now Maria, ever since I came along. He is not the typical father to send for men to visit me and 'match me up' as you call it."

Maria shakes her head, letting out one more breath of laughter, "I am aware he is against arranged meetings and marriage. Believe me when I say this, those men only came under orders to secure Martha at her home, and then they will be off."

"Exactly," Lilly smiles as the carriage makes it around the bowling green on the round gravel path, and pulls up in front of the door with the blue coated officers on horseback, armed, and smiling courteously to the young woman.

"Maybe," Maria whisper gets caught in the wind causing Lilly to glance behind her shoulder with a quick glower.

"Miss Washington," they either bow their heads or tilt their helmets towards their General's daughter in appropriate greeting, jumping off of their horses with absolute skill.

She couldn't help but smile back at all of their genuinely kind, tired faces, and the fact that they look older than the common suitor age. She did expect one man to be familiar as he escorted his mother on previous expenditures and both her and her mother to Philadelphia for safety precautions. This man wasn't here.

"Gentlemen," she bows her head appropriately.

One officer stands by the carriage door, opening it, and a big, puffy, dark blue dress comes into view. Within all the silk embroidered fabric, a smiling woman with relieved and tired eyes is looking at her daughter after months of being away.

"Thank you, Abbott," Martha states taking the offered hand of the officer to step out the carriage with a queenly grace Lilly admires to no end. _How does she do it?_ Lilly wonders to herself.

"Lilly," her mother smiles sweetly and lovingly, flipping her hair behind her shoulders and adjusting her lace cap, before her hand rest on her daughter's cheek.

"Welcome home mother!" Lilly beams returning her mother's open hug. "I can tell you're glad to be back."

"I am. But also glad I went. It is worth it all no matter how arduous the excursion is," her mother says.

Nodding understandingly, Lilly responds, "Indeed. Next time I will be going for sure. I need to see my father."

Some of the men chuckle at her words during their own quiet conversation with Derik and other slaves about the horses and the house.

"A father's girl. A gift sacred to him and the world," one of the oldest officers comments with a nostalgic glaze in his eyes.

"They are to be treasured," the second oldest said looking at the stretch of land. _Oh how kind they are!_ Lilly thinks to herself and wondering if any younger men are out there acting just as they do.

"Oh Lilly he misses you so. He sent things back to give to you, mostly letters, but we can catch up inside," Martha lowers her voice with a hush, "I pray the house is presentable?"

"Mother, you give me no credit. It is, since the day you left. Only Jacky would make it untidy but sweet Maria took care of him," Lilly grins in her hushed voice as well.

"Good. Thank you Maria."

Maria smirks slightly, bowing her head back to her landlady and owner.

"Remarkable land you have Mrs. Washington, I just may take a trip to that famous Potomac River," the second oldest looking officer says with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Thank you. Oh sure, feel free to visit any place you want out here," Martha tells the men who smile kindly at the offer.

"Why do you want to do that?" a man in his late thirties asks the older officer who mentioned the river.

"To toss a silver dollar across it of course! See if the legend is true," the man in question responds as if it is obvious.

The exchange caused Lilly to let out a light laugh causing their heads to snap in her direction.

"There is also the legend that the daughter of our commanding General is a pleasure to talk to; a charming hostess just as her mother. If I may, will I be given the honor to escort you on a leisure walk later this afternoon?" The older officer asks her politely.

"You may…" Lilly smiles at him.

"General Charles Scott," he introduces.

The two remaining soldiers, and Lilly's brother John (Jacky), stand outside on the long back porch of the house overlooking the Potomac, and their General walking with the young lady. The second oldest officer is walking back uphill towards the group of men with a shake of his head.

"The legend is untrue. I wasted a silver dollar," the man says causing the three men to erupt in laughter.

"Perhaps you're just getting old Saul," Abbot, the soldier in his late thirties, says. "You barely raised your arm from what pitiful throw I saw."

"I've been raising this arm all day. Pray I don't raise it again, boy, for more clouting matters," Saul responds with a serious glint, then said glint becomes playful once Abbotts face pales.

"I was wrong to accompany these old men even if I may be considered one myself in the eyes of some. See to it you make no failed decision as well John," Abbott says to Jacky who chuckles.

"Enough about our age. So, what is so special about Miss Lillian? Other than being our General's daughter and unaccompanied by another. The Jewel of Virginia is what some of the men say," the other old soldier, Thomas, who hasn't spoken yet.

"There are women, and then there's Lilly," Jacky exclaims motioning with his hands. "Lilly, in all aspects, is a lady. A perfect lady. She is intelligent, but what many do not know is she is a woman of greater intelligence; she went to college and had tutors. This can be either intimidating or a challenge by many potential suitors and is why she remains so."

Abbott breathes, shaking his head watching General Scott walk with her lady, "She is young, but I see her beauty everlasting. She will become acquainted with a man in her father's army and command."

Jacky frowns, "Of course I see her the same way, do not interpret my words so. I—sometimes we, fear for her future. She has high standards even if she will marry for love."

The men look at the young lady's brother with stunned faces, and sorrowful eyes. Jacky soon begins to feel guilt for talking about his sister so. He isn't harming her reputation! He would never dare. He comes to a consensus that he rarely talks about his young sister with other man which is why he feels this way. He is protective of her just as his father is. The men his sister will meet throughout her life will get to know her through all that he is describing her as.

Saul sighs, "Poor thing. She will come to realize the world doesn't work that way. It is rare that happens. My wife and I were actually one of those lucky rare ones, I must say."

Abbott nods his head to Saul in respect.

"She's a silent opinionated one isn't she?" Thomas asks with a smirk.

"Yes she is. The Patriot blood flows sweetly through her," Jacky says causing all the men to grin proudly.

"What a dream she is," Abbot comments. "Your wife is one of the loud opinionated ones if I remember correctly," he tells Thomas who looks everywhere but at Abbott.

"Don't talk about his trophy wife, boy!" Saul jokes.

"Trophy wife? What contest in hell did I win?" Thomas smirks causing another outburst of laughter from the soldiers and Jacky. "I don't mean that dear," Thomas adds looking up at the sky.

"Is she?" Jacky's smile fades.

Thomas looks at him, "Oh! No! She isn't dead. Just said that for her sake."

"Ah," Jacky nods.

Lilly smiles pleasantly, feeling the sun hit the top of her head with no fancy hat adorned on it as she enjoys the older General's company as a granddaughter would a grandfather. He is a strict man, but kind nevertheless. He obviously takes his position to the heart as any soldier should.

"Is that all my father wished to tell me?" she asks him, seeing him pensively thinking and trying to form words.

He sighs, "Miss Lillian, he did wish me to tell you a message of importance and to not take it wrong."

The rest of her small smile faded. With hope, she clings to the silent air before he speaks.

"He does not want you gathering intelligence anymore. He fears for your safety and reputation."

"My reputation?" she asks with creased brows.

"No one but I, in his charge, knows of your intelligence gathering efforts. I will say they were great, and helped us plenty. It gave us assurance we have the right knowledge because, if you didn't know, we receive the same intelligence as well though not as detailed. Being a lady of your standing, and young, you are bound to be compromised."

"I understand, sir. I figured as much that the army themselves would be ahead of the game and know what was happening. But he assigned me a duty to him and this country," she begins, both stopping their walk and General Scott looks down at her inquiringly. "Even if I wasn't gathering intelligence, I am still serving my country as his daughter, and a gracious symbol alongside my mother."

"And you fulfill that symbol and honorable duty well," he bows his head respectfully. "I assure you my men, and all other serving men see you as such and nothing less."

As if she didn't hear him, she continued, "When I help the cause, through intelligence gathering, I feel it is also my civic duty, and I take pride in that no matter how uncertain. What will he do then to help increase our chances of winning this war?"

The General smiles down at the naïve woman, "He was able to recruit enough men for that effort, Miss Lillian. I was also promoted Head of Intelligence."

Her body felt frozen, and she swallows the words she was preparing to say.

"That is great news he was able to do so. Congratulations, General, sir. You will do well I'm sure," she says with a kind face.

"Thank you Miss Lillian. You do not take it the wrong way, I hope?"

She shakes her head gently, "No. My father means well, always. I've only grown emotionally attached to that duty, and I cannot picture myself not being affiliated with it no more."

"Oh dear," he says with a sigh, looking away from her at the shining river and ducks silently swimming near. _Women and their emotions_ was on the tip of his tongue but he held it back. "As I tell my soldiers, they are not to show emotion nor have any emotion to their work, but only proudness, pride, as you said earlier. They are faced with obstacles every day that test their disposition."

 _An army who is told to show no emotion? I can hardly believe my ears, there is no such thing!_ She thinks to herself.

"It is warming to know, however, you believe it your civic duty, my lady. People of your nature are hard to find for espionage," he continues.

She raises an eyebrow, "I thought you said you were able to recruit enough men for that effort?"

"We did, but not _enough_ as we really need," he exhales. "Those loyalists are everywhere."

"Have you not tried regular people? Civilians?"

"That will not be tried for it is highly risky. It is also not funded by Congress nor your father," he responds stoically causing her to remain silent, she wasn't going to speak her opinion further.

"Now, let's not delve into this serious talk. All I need to know, to report back to your father, is if you're alright with this?" He asks, reverting back to his kinder voice.

"I will always be emotionally attached to it," she starts, causing him to close his eyes. "I, I gave him my word—"

"It was an order for you to stop in your efforts," he interrupts, admitting the real truth it seemed, but not in Lilly's mind. Her father wouldn't order her so.

She recollects herself, blinking watery eyes, _No, no I am not alright with this._

"Then yes I will be alright with it. I can't do anything about it even if I could, can't I?" She finishes with a pretend smile.

"Your efforts have not gone upraised, Miss Lillian. Your father only wants your safety. Now you may attain your largest role of the gracious symbol of America alongside your mother. That is of the most importance," he smiles, bowing his head at her meaning they have finished their discussion.

At a stun for words, she bows her head in return, not remembering when was the last time someone finished the conversation like so. She had so much more to say, and she found it hard to keep repressed. _Both roles are important to me, no matter how small the latter is._

Taking his arm accordingly, he escorts her uphill towards the back porch where his men, her brother, and mother are standing and finishing whatever conversation they were having to look at the pair.

"What did we miss?" General Scott smiles to them.

 **A/N: Had to stop here, it was getting verrryyyy long. So how about that letter from Ben? Do you think he wrote it? Poor Lilly going through all this. The next chapter will be Lillian more in detail at her current state, and a little surprise from a person of Lilly's past maybe? Any idea who? Chapter 9 will be a time skip when she will visit her father with her mother... you all know the rest :) The action and real plot-line of TURN will begin there.**

 **Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you all those who followed and favorited!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	8. Chapter 8: A Daughter Who Disobeys

**Chapter 8: Lilly's POV** ** _February 1776_**

A scream makes my eyes shoot open.

Wide awake, I throw my fluffy cotton sheets off of me and tumble out of my bed to my feet, running across the wood floor and down the staircase, not taking mind to my brash footfalls. The painful ear splitting scream is coming from my father's office.

I round the corner and throw open the door and see no one in there, with no candle lit, or sound of breathing. However, my father's chair is turned facing the wall and not to the front as it should be. So, I walk in, carefully, adjusting my eyes to the moonlit room, and approach the chair only to find a woman in it, with her eyes closed. _My sister._

" _Patsy_ ," I whisper her name, but she doesn't wake up. Her appearance is the same from when she died, frozen in time at the young age of seventeen.

"Patsy, what are you doing in here? You don't like the dark."

My forefinger reaches to touch her pale cheek tentatively, and before it makes contact her eyes flutter open, and they are heartbroken.

"Why were you screaming?" I ask her.

"I wasn't screaming," she begins, staring at the wall forlornly, not making eye contact with me.

"I wanted attention."

"You have my attention," I say. "If it wasn't your screams then whose was it?"

"It was your screams silly sister. You keep all your emotions and all you hold true bottled up inside of you. That's all I need right now, your attention," she finally looks at me, the moon shining in her green orbs. "You have to promise me you won't ever let me go, or anyone you hold dear."

I took her hand in mine, "I promise. I never did let you go."

"Don't live your life the way I did, you have self-doubt. You will be happy and strong, with a man or without."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask with a trembling breath.

"Because I want you to live for yourself, not for me. Don't avenge me, or your parents," she says with a sudden flash of anger across her face, reminding me of Martha, but the thought of my mother goes away as my mind processes her anger as almost devilish. What kind of nightmare is this?

"I should! That's all I feel I must do. You can't tell me how to live my life, maybe I want to avenge you and my dead parents," I say crying. Her hand goes to my hair, to grip it and pull me close.

"Then I will not," she says calmly. "You will realize it one day Lil's, just as when I realized I wanted a sister. You were the biggest wish come true for me. I'll always be your sister, but I am gone. I played my part, now you need to play yours no matter how unsafe."

I can only stand, unmoving, looking into her green eyes with despair, seeing they are full of youth, sadness, and longing for life again.

"My part in this war? The war hardly began before you left us, how do you know—"

She interrupts me, "Your part in everything. And where I am now, I know all, and I see all. Don't forget me. Beware of Lillian Elizabeth Kennedy Washington. She mixes with all classes of society and is the most dangerous," my sister said lastly.

Then I woke up, in my bed, breathing heavily, and Maria staring wide eyed at me crying.

"I thought you'd never wake up," Maria cries with a shaking breath matching my own.

"I thought I was awake, isn't that scary?"

* * *

"Did you have another nightmare last night?" Martha asks me concernedly, a hushed tone so no one else could hear.

"What makes you ask that?" I ask with a neutral face, eating eggs and bacon with the officers on one end of the wooden, white clothed table, and my mother and I on the other.

"I heard you scream," she tells me. "I went in to check on you but you were sound asleep with Maria sitting in the chair next to your bed. What was it about?"

I sigh lightly, "I, I don't remember. Nothing important. I did have trouble falling asleep, maybe that is why. I have a lot on my mind; you know that I always do."

My mother only nodded her head, "For no reason at all."

I sighed once more, this time it was mixed with a yawn so I place my hand over my mouth as we silently continued to eat while we listened to the officer's talk amongst one another, and I read some of my father's heartfelt letters as I drink some milk.

"Miss Lillian, a package for you came moments ago," Maria walks in, with a short, narrow box in hand.

My eyes widened slightly, "Oh, how great. Excuse me please mother, gentlemen," I say standing from my place, scooting back my chair, and bowing my head to the men taking the package before I exit the dining room.

I take out the key to my father's office, and unlock the door to open the package in privacy, fully knowing what it could be.

"Perfect timing Baker," I untie the string, and opening the box to reveal the dagger I gave him.

I take out the dagger eagerly, and undo the hilt, setting it on the desk and taking out a small sheet of paper reading: _British soldiers commanded by General William Howe in Boston. Dorchester Heights. He will launch an attack at start of March. British troop strength isn't too high._

"Golden, and it's detailed," I smile proudly, and toss the letter up into the air happily before I quickly begin writing a letter to my father, and while doing so I'm thinking of General Scott's orders to me.

 _"It was an order for you to stop in your efforts."_

 _"He does not want you gathering intelligence anymore."_

 _"He fears your safety and reputation."_

 _"Are you alright with this?"_

No.

I flick the quill from my hand onto the desk, with finality, letting ink splatter across other blank papers.

General Charles Scott and his men will be leaving this morning, to quickly return to their Commanding General and Chief's side because their orders were to return Mrs. Washington home safely, and they completed it yesterday. General Scott was also given a second order apparently to inform me to quit my intelligence gathering. I do not find it believable that my father would _order_ me to quit. He hasn't done so ever. He must be real concerned for my safety then.

But I have to tell him, at least one last time.

"And it's my sister's orders," I say flatly, and hear it ring in my ears in the quiet office.

* * *

"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Washington," Saul says kissing my hand gentlemanly, and the other officers simply bowed their heads, climbing onto their horses, with the same parting words.

"As yours Mr. Saul," I respond sweetly letting out a giggle, and blushing slightly at the wink he sent me.

Letting Derik take last minute requests and help the men with their horses, I take the opportunity to speak to General Charles Scott.

"General Scott."

He looks down at me from his horse with a fixed commanding look in his eyes, "Yes Miss Washington?"

"Will you give this to my father when you next see him?" I ask kindly of him.

He smiles understandingly taking the letter, and putting it in his side satchel in between the pages of a journal, "I will, my lady."

I watch it be placed in the book securely; making sure it's put back in the satchel.

"Thank you."

We bow our heads in farewell, and I step back from the horses to watch them ride off though the lightly falling snow, until they are blurry figures in the distance.

"Please let my father get it this time," I pray silently to myself.

* * *

~ **_March 1776_**

 _My dearest Lillian,_

 _Safe inside this dagger is this letter I send to you heartfelt words of love and thanks. This time I did receive your letter from General Charles Scott, and it wasn't quite as I was expecting, but it was exceptional. Your intelligence proved to be true, if you haven't known already of the patriot victory at Dorchester_ Heights _. At daybreak on March 4_ _th_ _1776, British General William Howe received word of our position overlooking the city of Boston. Within days, General Howe came to realize that our position made Boston indefensible and soon ordered the evacuation of all British troops from the city; the British sailed for Halifax, Nova Scotia, on March 27_ _th_ _of 1776._

 _Now, after reading words from your country's Commanding General and Chief, it is time I write father to daughter. By disobeying orders once more to cease in your efforts- you brought our great nation steps closer to our hopeful outcome. I am not surprised you did not heed my orders or General Scott's, but I inquire that next time, if I or anyone asks, you heed such orders and commands, do you understand? I want you safe, that is true. However, after what General Scott informed me of your words to him, and after the letter I received from you in that moment, I realized then that I am wrong. The day before I left, to ask you to help in this cause, I asked you for a reason, and that reason I forgot over time as I wage in this undefined war, and from not seeing you for some time. This reason still remains intact in my very being, and therefore I ask that you continue in your efforts, no matter how fearful I am of your well-being. I need the support and help acquiring intelligence because it is most needed, we need, and I need all the help I can get._

 _I worry, Lilly. Everyone does and we are not aware that it does not take away today's troubles but it takes away tomorrow's peace, and empties its strength. Keep your reasoning in your heart and mind, and good judgement, and let it carry you safe into tomorrow._

 _I look forward to seeing you and your mother this coming winter._

 _Stay safe my lilly._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Your father, George Washington_

I smile proudly with a relieved sigh as I fold up the letter and tuck it away with the happy thought I will see him in around seven months, and that he scolded me with care in his tone. Only he can ever pull that off.

My happiness was short lived after my eyes find the familiar folds of a letter sticking out from underneath a quill box, and it has messy writing. _Benjamin Tallmadge's letter._

The only thought I've ever given it was that, I decided, it's his writing and it is insulting to my honor. I made a mental note to take it with me when I visit my father in the winter, to find Benjamin Tallmadge and speak to him about manners and propriety. _Oi, I sound like my mother._

"Perhaps I'll just let Maria tell him… She's better expressed in scolding speech than I," I trail off in thought, speaking out loud. "Unless he's one of those 'pretty boys,' I'll know exactly what to say. They always were the ones with that much confidence to speak to a lady like that."

After time in my father's office, and a day to myself playing the harp and painting white roses on a canvas, I went outside for some fresh air and to stretch my aching legs from having them crossed at my mother's teatime. It was then I got the surprise of my life, my mother standing outside the front door with several slaves looking up at her concernedly and passing looks in the distance where our neighbors are.

"Mother, what's wrong?"

She turns to me quickly, "Lillian, we're going to Philadelphia, to visit some friends."

"Your neighbors aren't threatening you, Mrs. Washington, we've been keeping a close eye on them as we do our work," a woman slave speaks up.

Martha looks down at her from the steps, "Threatening or not, I still wish to go. I need time away from home and to be around some friends, and some family if they wish to meet. I still do not feel safe now that fighting commenced once more after the winter."

"Alright, we'll ready the carriage and horses," Derik says, bowing his head to my mother and me before walking off to do his duty.

"Lillian, go pack your things, and throw a ball gown or two in your baggage. There's always a ball in Philadelphia," Martha smiles at me and I smile back. I like balls, some. The kind where men don't flirt with you all throughout and you can dance the night away without having a man breathe down your neck.

"Yes ma'am," I answer and begin my walk to the stairs. It also means it'll make time go by faster, and I'll see my father sooner.

* * *

 _Benjamin Tallmadge POV_

I sit on my makeshift cot, writing in my small pocket journal under the thin tent roof at the late hours of night. A night I can finally begin writing my memoir, something I've been needing and wanting to write in case I lose my life in this war. I would like to leave something behind, and for my father to have other than a sword I wield. I yawn loudly, and blinking rapidly trying not to fall right to sleep after days of grueling training and traveling:

 _"When first American blood was shed at Lexington by the British troops, and again repeated much more copiously at Bunker's Hill, near Boston, the whole country seemed to be electrified. Among others, I caught the flame which was thus spreading from breast to breast, and mounted my horse to go and see what was going on near Boston…_

 _While I was at Cambridge with my military friends, I was continually importuned to think of the oppression which was so abundantly exhibited by the British government towards the Colonies, until I finally became entirely devoted to the cause in which my country was compelled to engage. I finally began to think seriously of putting on the uniform, and returned to Weathersfield full of zeal in the cause of my country._

 _My ambition is almost boundless, and my health and spirits being of the first order, I feel ready to do or undergo almost any service that might be assigned to me."_

"You sure you'd undergo any service that may be assigned to you? Last time I did that I screwed myself over," Caleb Brewster's unwavering playful voice breaks my thoughts, causing me to put my quill down and actually let out a laugh.

"Yes, I'm sure I'd undergo any service that will come to be assigned to me in time, especially if I am to be Captain of the 2nd Light Dragoons."

"You're doing it this time Tall-boy," Caleb grins at me, showing appreciation for me in his eyes that I take to the heart.

 **To Be Continued. Stay tuned for Chapter 9 where TURN: Washington's Spies will begin.**

 **A/N: Finally got this chapter up, I'm sorry for the delay. I'm so ready for beginning to write the TURN part of this fanfic, now that the introduction and Lillian's role and character have been set up. Thank you to those who reviewed, followed, and favorited and my silent readers! TURN Season 3 returns to AMC on April 25** **th** **for those who have not heard yet, I can't wait! And Ben looks like he cut his hair and is wearing a blonde wig…. Which made me almost faint. Please review!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	9. Chapter 9: Reunited

**Chapter 9: Winter of 1777- New Year**

 _'Trenton, Princeton, Jersey's ours again! Trenton, Princeton, Jersey's ours again!'_

The Continental soldiers silenced at the entrance of their Commanding General and Chief, who is wearing his tricorn and dark cloak all full of white snow, still fresh of its fall from the sky.

All the men break into bigger smiles, and applauding loudly to their Commander George Washington, hooting and cheering him on as he walked past them all, looking at each and every one of them appreciatively, and heads to his office in Morristown Headquarters.

In this office, Captain Benjamin Tallmadge waits anxiously standing with his helmet tucked under his arm, hearing his Excellency's footfalls approaching closer; the victory of Trenton and Princeton being forgotten in this moment of worried anticipation.

The Captain blinked, and before him was his Commanding General, taking off his cloak and placing it on a nearby chair. He quickly down casted his eyes, partly of his nervousness, and fear of what he has done. _Have I made the wrong choice by doing this?_ He thinks last minutely. _No. It is the right thing, I must inform him of my actions._

"Now," George Washington exhales a breath, just settling into his chair and adjusting the holster of the sword on his side.

Captain Tallmadge's eyes quickly darted towards his Commander's acknowledging ones, and he bows his head subtly for him to continue, and he is all ears.

"Just who is this, Abraham Woodhull?"

The young Captain froze. His eyes widened to shock, and his mouth opened like a fish, but he found any words he wanted to say die in his throat.

He somewhat wished a hole opened up and swallowed him whole through the ground or that he was back crossing the Delaware and drowning. How had his General come by his friend's name?

* * *

Lillian shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and from the cold air blowing through the openings in the window. She is jostled by the movements of the efficient, if not entirely comfortable, carriage. She is very used to them, having gone on long shopping trips with her mother, or travelling to safe havens other than their home during wartime. Certainly, the accoutrements inside: silk cushions, down padded seats, and ample room to stretch her legs, were more than adequate, but at least once they get closer to the camp, she will be allowed to ride her horse around to breathe.

She let out a breath, and took her white gloves off momentarily to feel the cold air hit her previously warm hands, feeling like a baby bird in its nest not completely covered by the mother bird. Perhaps she'll ride her horse another time, when the weather isn't as cold.

Her powder blue, white and silver flowered robe anglaise, wrinkled, no doubt, in the five hours they had traveled since breakfast, along with her petticoats, up to her calves, her stockinged feet free for now of the Louis heels she'd cast to the floor as she propped her ankles up on the opposite bench beside Maria. Her mother sat next to her wearing the same proper clothing, a dark green dress and white cap atop her dark haired head, but she kept her heels on, looking regal as ever.

Lillian fidgeted her toes inside her thin white cotton stockings, watching them wriggle beneath the fabric. She stared at the book in her lap, the fifth she'd read along this particular journey, too anxious to open its pages, thinking of her father, and the awaiting sick soldiers for her nursing care.

Then she exhaled, audibly. She squished her right pannier slightly when she shifted to the right and tilted her head to look out the window at the passing fields and trees, covered in white, longing to be sat on a blanket beneath any one of them, instead of stuck in what she'd taken to calling "that cursed box," in the two weeks they'd been traveling to her father's encampment at Morristown, New Jersey.

A smile took hold on her face, thinking of the victory at Princeton and Trenton the Patriots had! How far have they come! She couldn't wait to discuss it further with her father, and to have her questions answered on a variety of matters.

Behind them, at a slower pace, came a cart and carriage as well, carrying a couple of her mother's small trunks and some of her own, manned by Derik and attended by Ashley. Lilly could see them occasionally when she looked out the window, several yards behind. She pulled absentmindedly at her long, wavy golden brown hair that wasn't pinned to the modest, afternoon updo at the back of her head. She turned a lock in her hand, twirling her flexible hair to stay in a much wavier form. When she reached for it again, Maria leaned across for her hand and took it gently, pulling it away from her head as a direction to stop, placing it in her lap.

"That's creepy, playing with your hair like that, stop it," she says making Lilly grin.

She and Maria had been together so long they could communicate over several long hours with one another without so much as a word spoken, and joke around as they have their share of inside jokes.

"And please quit squirming and sighing. I know you're more reserved and well behaved than that," her mother tells her like a little child.

"It's not my fault it's cramped in here and boring. If we could I'd ride a horse the rest of the way, it'd be faster," she says smiling, thinking back to when she, Jacky, and father rode together. At least before Jacky got lazy and moved out in the blink of an eye rather young, younger than her. Even when he moved back in with his wife for some time, he was still lazy.

Lilly was only thankful that they were being conveyed to a safe place given the circumstances as well, and her father assured that nothing would go wrong, and if anything did they would be fine. Lillian, yet unmarried at age nineteen now, soon to be twenty in May, had been called to her brother's study at home before she left discussing all manner of negative implications to come, and her relative safety especially at war time.

While her father, mother, and brother admire and cultivate the youngest Washington's patriotic and independent sensibilities, they understand rules of society for the current generation, to be married off soon and young. Sure, her mother Martha was married at age nineteen, the age is now, but she was widowed at age twenty-six due to her husband being much older than her, one of the reasons he died. Martha remarried to George Washington, at the age of twenty-seven, and she was still look on as young and beautiful! And she still is.

Lillian returns the smile her mother gave her when they made eye contact. All she wants is her step-mother's, and biological mother's happiness. And if that means waiting, till twenty-seven years old at least, she will see it through.

Her father also sent her a letter, before she left Mt. Vernon, discussing the value of keeping her intelligence of her war efforts in the back of her mind, and to attain a complete unperturbed façade in front of his men, then she could pass by in relative safety with her honor intact as a symbol of America.

Now, at the end of her journey, she wished she had perhaps protested further on riding her horse, feeling another unsettling bump underneath the wheels of the carriage.

Maria cast glances in Lilly's direction, as her mistress looked pitifully out the window in her continual presentation of her annoyed state, and shook her head. She was often startled, looking at Lillian, by how stunningly beautiful the girl was. She had grown up from the little eleven year old girl she befriended. Oval and healthy olive complexion of face, with light brown eyes, and hair that could be called golden brown, she had a natural and other worldly look to her, one almost universally admired if it weren't for standards set by society. The inattentive look on her face can, well, "scare off" men because it means the woman is thinking, not paying attention, and a woman who doesn't compose herself as thoughtfully as she should is no good to them- allowing them to not further consider asking for her hand.

Maria does remind herself, that Lillian is very much so like her mother, Martha, no matter how much Lillian does not see it. She knows how to compose herself appropriately when the time allows for it, and she surely knows how to win a man's favor watching her gain a young British officer's attention at her neighbor's home when he returned for the winter. Every time Maria asked why she did so, she responded _'it is classified, personal business between me, myself, and I.'_

This leads to thinking of Lillian's stubbornness, not pulling up her hair all the time in the latest hairdo, and angered quickly because women 'acquaintances' question her motives every chance they get. It is good enough she wears the latest fashion, having a sweet tooth for dresses and selected hats, the wealthy life suits her well and she knows what she has. Thankfully, Maria was certain, she would soon return to her generally optimistic, smiling, and interestingly innocent countenance when she's around the man, the person she first trusted upon her arrival long ago at Mt. Vernon as a little girl. She always preferred this side of her mistress rather than her blunt honesty and cold hard facts backed up with all the evidence in the world. Sometimes she believed her friend made her facts up.

When they were alerted by the change in scenery outside the carriage, and by the texture of the ground, as communicated through the wheels, that they had turned off onto the private way leading to the encampment.

"Almost there, Mrs. and Miss Washington," the carriage driver calls behind him through the small window used for communication between the driver and the passengers.

Lillian took the time to put her gloves back on, and to readjust her cloak and dress just as her mother is. She also puts her shoes back onto her feet.

"Hopefully you didn't bring all heels, you'll need worn-out shoes to be walking in the snow, mud, and puddles," her mother breaks the comfortable silence.

"Of course not, I brought my boots and my travelling clothes for when I ride my horse. I'm way ahead of you," Lillian responds.

"Are you sure about that?" Her mother raised an eyebrow in question, making Lilly tilt her head as if to ask ' _what do you know that I don't?'_

* * *

There was a sudden knock on the door to the house, disrupting a deep discussion, and silence befell the two gentlemen as Ben, closest to the entrance to the foyer, strode across the wooden floor and answered it. A regular, corporal-ranked by the looks of his uniform, stood on the steps and immediately stated, "Sir, inform General Washington that his company have arrived."

However, instead of immediately answering, Ben had noticed that there was something strange in the inflection of the corporal's message. "Company?" he inquired, but before he could elaborate on his question, the heavy footsteps of Washington and Scott were heard as the three men entered the foyer.

"Sir!" the corporal stated, as his eyes shifted immediately past Ben's left shoulder to see Washington approaching. "Your wife and daughter have made it safely," he repeated with a touch more enthusiasm than what Ben thought was necessary.

"Perfect timing, lead me to them!" He beams, brightening at the mention of his daughter. Washington rushes past the corporal in such an impatient way that Benjamin has never seen it before, making his eyes flicker in astonishment.

"Benjamin, I think our discussion is dismissed for the day, thank your lucky stars. We will return to it tomorrow morning," General Scott looks to his Captain.

"Yes sir, understood," Ben bows his head and rushes out the door, barely glancing at the arrival of his Excellency's family.

The driver, a Continental soldier who was sent out by George Washington to collect his family stops the carriage, jumps off from his place in his seat, to open the door of the carriage and draw down the retractable footsteps. It is late evening, and the sun is beginning to set in the early days of January.

Maria went out first, tightening her cloak around her, to help assist in letting her mistresses out of the carriage, and to allow them room to depart more freely.

"Mrs. Washington," the soldier smiles as he offers his gloved hand to her. Martha takes it gladly with a warm smile upon exiting the carriage, but little did the soldier know was that her smile extended beyond him, to her husband approaching them.

"My beautiful wife has returned," George smiles, taking Martha's hands in his own, the setting sun's last rays of light shine upon his teary eyes at the sight of seeing his wife after so long.

"And my dashing husband has made it through another year of this war, and has achieved victory," Martha says, feeling her throat constrict, but she doesn't cry.

"All thanks to you, for staying by my side, even from afar," he tells her, placing a kiss on her hand.

"How couldn't I?" She laughs lightly. "You should be saying this to your daughter as well."

George blinks, and looks to the carriage, hardly believing his eyes seeing his daughter; dressed in a gown he had gifted to her before he left years ago, with some alterations made to it because she has grown up, tall, and thin with a watchful look gracing her face. A lovely woman he has raised.

"Hello father," she smiles up at him, close to tears, as she lifts her gloved hand for her father to take, and place a quick kiss on it, eager to hug her close.

"My little girl," George pulls his daughter into a tight embrace that she returns just as tightly, not caring who is looking. "You've grown up so, so much."

"I know, I'm nineteen, almost twenty, can you believe it?" she says getting choked up. "I missed you very much."

"I missed you too my sweet, fearless one," he whispers down to her, gliding his hand up and down the back of her head, soothing her. "I missed you and your mother dearly, so much that some nights I couldn't sleep, worrying how my two girls are doing."

"We worried about you as well, especially when we never heard back from you after the Delaware crossing, but word spread of the victory as we were travelling, so we knew you were well. Your two girls were strong as always, and still are," Lilly says, burying her face into his chest, letting the smell of books, outside, snow, candlewax, and lavender fill her senses. He kept a piece of lavender in his pocket to keep him and his clothes smelling good just as many men do, especially in a camp.

"Yes they are," He plants a kiss on her brow, his breath seen in the air when he exhales, hardly believing his daughter is here before him after almost two years. "I regret not letting you come with your mother the past trips. You've grown since I left! Beautiful just like your mother," He then twirls her around like a ballerina gracefully. "Both."

Lillian looks down at her feet, thinking of her biological mother who died when she was eleven. But she looks back up to her step-mother, Martha, someone she prefers to call mother, and her father, George, who both have a caring and doting demeanor plastered on their faces, just as when she arrived to Mt. Vernon all those years ago.

"I know I have. A lot of people joke I get the height from your side of the family," she causes them both to laugh. "But I'm here now."

"You are. Now, if you're feeling up to it, Lillian. And if your mother allows, will you attend a meeting tomorrow morning after a good night's rest?"

Lillian catches the look her father gives her, with a message hidden in them and a knowing smile spread across his lips. This wouldn't be an ordinary meeting.

"Mother?" She looks past her father, to her mother just as they come to the steps of the white and faded red bricked house, headquarters for her father's army. It looks homely, with the smoke coming out of the chimneys on the roof, despite the two guards standing on watch at their place on either side of the doorway.

"If your father wishes you there, and sees it fit for you to attend, you are allowed," Martha answers with an approving nod.

"Thank you," Lillian says, letting it dawn on her that this was the fated meeting she's dreamed of, finally happening, to discuss espionage.

Her other favorite role in this war.

 **A/N: I'm posting next chapter, Chapter 10 now! She finally sees her father YAY! And she'll see and meet Benjamin Tallmadge next... This should be interesting.**


	10. Chapter 10: Mr Culpeper

**Chapter 10:**

Lillian awoke the next morning after having one of the deepest sleeps she's had in a while. It was because she felt safe with having her father near once more.

The door opening without warning made her reach startled for her blanket, covering herself in her nightgown and messy morning hair, but relaxing when it is her father with Maria, who had a plate of breakfast for her.

"You scared me, I thought someone was coming in when they weren't supposed to," she says pushing the sheets off of her, and sitting up in her bed..

"I'm sorry, I thought you'd be dressed by then, eager to start the day," her father said walking over to the one window in her room overlooking a corner of the camp.

"Believe me I am, but the travel wore me out. And finally sleeping in an actual bed has me very comfortable. The carriage was like being crammed inside a pumpkin with wheels, except with more cushion and no funny smells."

Her father shook his head amusedly, holding back laughter, "You are something else, my sweet lilly."

"You're telling me, sir," Maria smiles, helping Lillian up from bed and taking her to sit at a desk to eat breakfast.

Her father told her the meeting would take place after a hanging, making her almost choke on her bacon.

"A hanging? For what crime?" She asks wide eyed, hardly expecting him to tell her this.

"One of my men was accused of breaking into someone's house, and robbing them. You may hear the preceding if you happen to be downstairs, but I do not wish for you to see the aftermath. I'll have Mr. Sackett keep you away from the front windows."

She swallowed; pitying the soldier—wait not a soldier because a soldier doesn't act so. She still pity's the man, thinking what would he rob? Was it for life or death? But she wouldn't question her father's judgement. He doesn't need robbers in his army, or anyone so bold to act inappropriately, or someone just too bold. He is ensuring the safety of all.

"Who is Mr. Sackett?" She asks, taking another bite of bacon, clutching her robe around her tighter feeling a draft through the floorboards.

"Someone I will introduce you to as soon as you get dressed, before I head outside to tend to my horse, and the sentence," he answers, taking out his pocket watch and looking down at the time. "Real soon."

"Yes father," she says, standing up from her seat, and waits for her father to exit the room and have Maria shut the door before she takes off her robe, throwing it on the made bed, and slides off the cotton nightgown for Maria to begin putting on her corset.

"You must look your best for this meeting, and for the duration of your stay, being around all these men," Maria says almost apologetically, because she knows Lilly doesn't favor the fancy corsets she is being put in now, and being around so many men. "But on the bright side it is a chance to present yourself to your people."

"My people?" Lillian turns her head around with confusion. "You speak as if I'm some princess, or Queen."

Maria laughs, "Your fellow patriots. In a sense you are a princess, being George Washington's daughter."

Lillian found herself smiling like a little girl, "I guess so. But I'm not sure if I like being called that, given that we're trying to steer away from tyranny of King George."

"True," she says. "But there will always be princesses in the world. And princes."

Lillian's smile drops like a plate to the floor, "I'm here for my father. No other man, my prince will come one day- Ow!"

Maria pulled the strings of the corset so tightly; Lilly forgot what they were just talking about.

"Be sure to leave some breathing room. At least give me that, for some comfort in this camp," she tells her friend who loosens the corset just enough for her lungs and stomach to not be sucked in.

"And I know I'm presenting myself, but I'd rather not present these two parts of me as well," Lilian adds cupping her hands under her breasts and pushing them up, simply showing how much the corset is showing and eyeing the low scoop dress.

"Of course. But you can't look like a prude. Your mother's orders."

"But I am a prude," Lillian narrows her eyes at her reflection in the vanity mirror. "I'm not here to rake up lovers. Follow my orders to make some quick pin-ups on the neckline, I am no tavern wench."

Maria outright laughs, "You are not a prude! And yes, I will make a little adjustment, gladly."

"Thank you."

* * *

My father was standing at the foot of the stairs, smiling and nodding in approval of my choice in gown. A gold gown with ivory brocade underneath the gold _robe a la francaise_ , faded floral designs within the fabric, a corseted jacket/bodice with a separate skirt worn over pannier supports, round neckline that barely shows the tops of my cleavage after being pinned, and the sleeves are quarter length with scalloped edges and lace trimming… Definitely one of the finest I ever worn. Perhaps too fine for being in a camp, but I must look presentable, being the Commander's daughter and to show my wealth according to society's expectations. I'll have another day, hopefully this afternoon, to dress more casual so I can attend to the sick soldiers. At least if my father allows me, I haven't been given the chance to ask.

My hair is pulled into an up-do, leaving one wavy lock to fall over my left shoulder, enough hair to make it look like my hair is half down. For some reason, I never liked a complete up-do and having an all exposed neck. I feel like a man if I had all of my hair up.

"You look lovely, Lilly," My father smiles down at me, offering me his arm.

"Thank you," I smile up at him, taking his arm, letting him lead me around the corner, and into the parlor filled with maps, scattered chairs, and chess pieces. In the adjoining room is a man with curly dark brown hair, wearing round glasses, scribbling away on some parchment with his quill, not looking up.

"Mr. Nathaniel Sackett, I have someone I would like you to meet," My father says in his breathy, calm voice.

The man looks up from his paper, and stands abruptly from his chair almost knocking it over, causing me to jump back a little at the speed of his movement.

"Ah, a-ha!" He exclaims, grinning from ear to ear, and bowing, with one arm in front of him, and the other behind his back, like she is a princess. _Thanks Maria_. "Miss Lillian Washington, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, at last. I've been anxiously waiting to meet you, and speak with you."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Sackett," she couldn't help herself but to let out a little laugh. "I guess I've been waiting to meet you too?"

"You haven't told her of me?" Mr. Sackett looks to my father, his eyes quickly looking back to me with an appreciative hum as he looked me up and down in a very gentlemanly fashion, nothing about the movement inappropriate.

"No I'm afraid not. The timing of her departure, and your recent arrival a month ago didn't allow me the chance of writing a letter to be received by her in time. Lillian, Nathaniel Sackett is of the Committee to Detect and Defeat Conspiracies."

"No way," she exhales in disbelief. "The real honor is to make of your acquaintance, Mr. Sackett."

The man laughs wholeheartedly, "Thank you, my dear. It is great someone else in this camp other than your father appreciates my work. Work in which I'll be discussing with you momentarily, that is if we are truly acquaintances given that we just met. Your father told me much of you already and your spirit for helping the cause, and by the sounds of it, you don't have any friends, and few acquaintances."

I was speechless at his words, going from warming, to a seriousness I wasn't expecting. Even my father looked towards me with a look, to respond to him. He only made the air denser, thanks father.

"You are correct, partly. My only one friend is my family's servant. I am very picky of who my friends are," I answer in all honesty.

He remains silent, as if he is waiting for me to continue, but I have nothing else on my mind to say.

"Good, this makes things easier. The less friends you have, the more you get done," he tilts his head down, looking at me from under his glasses. _I suppose. Sometimes you need help, but I guess he means to not be distracted? Then that is true._

He continues on, what I thought was rambling to himself, when he was actually talking to me—"I still can't believe a woman with not many friends, does not gossip, and has a brain is in the same room as me. Where have you been all my life?"

"I'll leave you in his care for the hour being. Be sure she doesn't go to the front of the house," My father looks at Mr. Sackett at his last message, as if not hearing what Mr. Sackett was saying, and the man responds with a simple nod, sifting through some papers.

"I'll see you soon with the company of two other men, I take my leave now," He voices, parting the room in his entire blue coat glory, with thick golden epaulettes signifying his rank as Commander and Chief, and his brown graying hair is plaited neatly with its ribbon and tricorn hat.

After taking in my father's great appearance, I look at Mr. Sackett, refilling his ink and organizing his papers. I listened to my father grab his cloak, the silence meaning he was putting it on, and then he opened the door, and shut it behind him with a loud thud because the wind caught it.

"I apologize for what I said earlier, about you not having any friends. I should have at least worded it differently. It isn't your fault you don't, my lady," he looks up at me from his place in his chair, with a regretful look on his face.

"Actually it is. I push them away, mostly, I'm afraid to admit. Other times they just leave me, I've always been left alone, which is probably for the better so no one gets hurt," I sum up with a sad smile that he returns.

"There's the good and bad in everything, in everyone. But I fail to see what is a bad quality about you," he leaves his sentence hanging, waiting for me to speak. _He wants to know me, to see if I'm valuable and worthy of such a task as spying._

"I think me as a whole is considered bad," this statement made him stifle his laugh, he covered it with a cough. "My intelligence, what others call it, is considered prodigious, higher than many women and some men. It's what makes me, me," I explain, as I take a seat he offered to me, across from him. "It scares off people and as you can imagine suitors."

"Your father has no problem with that I imagine."

I let out a dry laugh, "No he doesn't."

"It was said to me you went to college?" He asks, with a satisfied nod for my previous answers, before turning back around to writing at his desk, scratching and scribbling loudly. I wasn't sure if it was out of habit, rushing, or that he didn't have enough ink on his quill, but I found myself liking it, taking away from the quiet atmosphere leaving me to my thoughts, thinking of my next words.

"Yes, University of the State of Pennsylvania, a bachelor's degree in nursing," I answer with a smile, feeling proudness swirl in me, because it's an uncommon answer for women to have. "The first college to offer a medical education."

"The college Benjamin Franklin established. His ideas found a receptive audience in the prominent men of Philadelphia, who saw a need to prepare young men to lead the government and businesses of their growing city, the largest in the American colonies. And they accepted you?" He looked at me interestedly.

"Yes, because they were the only ones who accepted me, and it helped that I wanted to be a nurse, a role suited for a lady in their eyes. And my last name may have made them reconsider, as well as my father's letter to the headmaster, saying I've been to school since I was young, and my tutors said I demonstrated a good aptitude for further education, and had the gift to heal, whatever that may mean."

"Gift to heal…What did you study?"

"The basics," I sum it up. "Treating wounds, medicine prescribing, some surgery on surface wounds, healing the sick—my main focus was studying blood."

"Very interesting," he hums. "Blood is a part of everything, and everyone. I was told of your theory paper, I believe a congratulations are in order, and for your degree, I am impressed, Miss Lillian. I'll have to read that essay of yours one day."

"Thank you," I nod my head shyly, showing gratitude for his praise. It was then the world fell to silence outside, and it caused the both of us to look towards the front of the house.

"It's starting," He said, returning to the papers. I found myself blinking away unshed tears. _What a horrible, unhuman way to die._

"I won't hear anything will I?" I ask, and Mr. Sackett quickly looks up at me reverentially.

"Sit further in the corner over there; the wall will block any further sounds. I forgot you have good hearing too," he says, pointing to the corner of the room we're in.

"My father told you everything about me hasn't he?" I ask, bringing my chair over towards the corner, and I sit feeling a little safer.

"Just about, yes. But that is one of the greatest mysteries in the world. Someone can tell you all about a person, through their eyes, but one never truly knows them until they get to know them. There are always things left under the surface, and left unsaid," he says very wisely, making me like him more.

"Your words are so true," I say. "I hope as you further get to know me I don't push you away as well."

Mr. Sackett looks back at me, with narrowed eyes, as if he were about to speak, but the door to the house opens, and I recognize my father's familiar footfalls, and more feet following in behind him.

"We'll continue our personal discussion, later," Mr. Sackett faces back to his desk, adjusting his glasses with a determined frown.

* * *

General Scott and Captain Tallmadge stood in front of a table filled with maps and a chessboard with every piece in its pregame stage. Scott was the first to notice, almost having to rub his eyes if what he was seeing was real: a civilian sitting in the next room over, writing at a desk. A more paranoid part of him thought him to be writing everything that has been said so far. He was practically in the same room as them during a court martial!

"Gentleman," their Excellency pulls back a chair, screeching across the dirty wooden floor, but doesn't sit down, resting his hand in front of him colonially.

Washington notices his General's point of focus, half expecting his daughter to be there, but faintly smiling seeing it was only Sackett causing him to appear so taken aback.

Smile fading, as if it wasn't even there to begin with, "This man is Nathaniel Sackett of the Committee to Detect and Defeat Conspiracies against America," Washington explains in his breathy clear and precise tone.

"Sir," General Scott interrupts. "The presence of a civilian at a court martial is highly irregular-"

"-As I agree Charles," Washington states. "Now would you be so kind as to brief the room on the intelligence uncovered at Trenton."

"Brief the room?" Scott asks dumbfounded.

"Myself included," Washington looks down impatiently waiting for him to speak, and wondering where his daughter is, but she will be introduced at the right timing. _And my daughter is also included._

"An examination of orders discovered in the desk of Colonel Rowe suggests that what we took from the Hessians' was much more than a winter camp. Trenton was being prepared as a launch point for attack on Philadelphia."

"I know what Howe wants," George asks himself in a hushed undertone, looking down at his map of the states pensively, pointedly at New Jersey. "But Howe would have to get by that…"

"Decapitate New England from the rest of our colonies," George continues, and setting a chess piece above his desired location, Benjamin looks on in silence the whole time, eyes glistening with a mixture of confusion, awe, and light doubt. Once he felt doubt, he quickly regained his blank composure, he shouldn't have any doubt especially in front of his Commander, what is he thinking.

"We have until the snow melts before their forces in New York begin to move."

Benjamin looks back up from the map to his Commander's face, in continued awe at his quick strategic planning, but most of what he is saying is easier said than done. Then, no one said winning America's independence would be easy.

"New York which remains dark to us," Washington wistfully says.

"Sir, I have just dispatched new scouts to observe the enemy-" Scott silences and closes his eyes at his Excellency interrupting, with heated irascibility.

"I grow weary of contradictory accounts that merely guess at the intent of the enemy," Washington's voice rose to a high level until quickly lowering back to his neutral tone.

General Scott, used to such emotion being lashed out, looks down realizing his mistakes, while Benjamin looks flabbergasted at witnessing his Commander release a tension he has been holding back for obviously a while now. He was slightly relieved that nothing about his court martial was mentioned yet; he kept hoping it'd keep being delayed and possibly forgotten- he inwardly shakes his head. That is little boy talk from trying to avoid a chat with his father on proper behavior. If the surprise didn't stop here, it only grew when both men's ears perked up at Washington's next words.

"I shouldn't have reacted as I have. There is a lady in the room who hasn't made her presence known until now," George says glancing behind him at the adjoining room Sackett is in, having heard her breathing in the corner of the room.

"I apologize, Lillian."

"There is nothing to apologize for, you hardly ever lose your temper," Lillian enters the doorway, glancing a smile at Mr. Sackett who quit writing his paper at his Excellency's voice, looking up at Lillian with a knowing smirk, but continued writing after the thick air around them all lessened.

"If anything I apologize for not holding my breath better," her light pink lips quirk up into a little smile before returning back to her perceptive face.

She walked slowly into the parlor like she was floating across the wooden floorboards, and both men found themselves at a loss for words; especially the young Captain who is not far from her age is what he realizes first, the second is that she is enchanting: She has a sculpted figure which was twine-thin, encased in a golden and ivory dress, like royalty. Her waist was tapered and she had a burnished complexion. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes. Her delicate ears framed a button nose. A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed when he saw her flash that small smile to her father. It is a pleasure not just to see that smile, but to see such flowing, golden brown hair not pinned up in the hugest, popular hairstyle. Her enticing, big doe brown eyes gazed at him over her heart shaped lips…

The third thing he was wondering, _what is she doing here? At my court martial? At an encampment full of men? Who is this woman?_

His thoughts were immediately answered.

"Captain Tallmadge, may I introduce my daughter Lillian. Lillian, Captain Tallmadge," George looks to the Captain in acknowledging.

"Miss Washington," Tallmadge bows, covering his amazement by the hardest, feeling soldierly doing so in front of a lady as she, but he felt awkward, he rarely- if not ever bowed to a woman, if he did, it was only to two: one from the house him and his General boarded at with Simcoe as prisoner recently, and the other woman an old librarian for going through the trouble of handing him a book when they passed through a town.

"Captain," she curtsied shortly in kind, but he had to control his eyes from wandering too far down her tall, dainty form. "And General Scott, it is wonderful to see you again, at a _court martial_." Lilly directed her last words towards her father who only gave her the look _'you'll find out soon.'_

"You as well Miss Lillian," Scott responds, with a swallow, and glancing back towards his Commander, and sending a subtle glower at his Captain who is still staring at the woman with his undivided interest. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Benjamin's immodest staring.

"This letter written by your man on Long Island-" Washington continues the talk, looking pointedly at the Captain now, who quickly diverts his eyes to his Excellency's with a dry throat praying he wasn't ogling too long, but before Ben could answer, his General interrupts once more.

"That letter was not received through the proper channel-"

"Which is why I paid it no mind," Washington looks at the General with a pointed look now. "There's a lone reporter unconfirmed until our victories at Trenton and Princeton proved it to be accurate."

"More accurate than any other piece of intelligence we received thus far at least, since Lillian's intel on Dorchester. A year ago," Sackett speaks up from his desk.

Lilian let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and felt all eyes on her, a certain pair of a General, who was looking blatant at her out of disbelief.

"After I gave you orders- after your father gave your orders to quit, you do so anyway?" Scott questioned her rather vocally.

"Yes, yes I did. A good thing I did to not give up on a role that fits me rather impeccably, if I may be so bold, General. And may I add, he encouraged my efforts once more, allowing me permission to do as I wish."

"True. Now may I ask, how did you come by this intelligence on Dorchester, one of our proud victories, my daughter? If you would now brief the room," her father looks at her expectantly.

She folds her hands together in the front of her, relaxing her nerves and thankful her father is here in case she says something she shouldn't. _This is information from over a year ago… Why?_ She now wonders.

"Well, I certainly didn't come by this intelligence by observing the enemy, I don't have much interest in that, to be honest," she states, glancing at the General who only bows his head with a sardonic smile.

"I can't imagine why," Mr. Sackett says aloud with an accidental escaped laugh he covered with a cough.

"But since the war began, I've had contacts I've been communicating with, two in particular, and one of those is in the heart of a British controlled town, the one who found the information on Dorchester. They listened in one of the higher up discussions."

"A _civilian_?" Mr. Sackett asked from behind her, now standing against the doorway.

"I guess-they could be called that, yes," she caught herself from saying 'he'. She mustn't reveal who it is. _Baker_. _Ensign Baker of the British militia who is secretly a patriot._ "The rest is as I said earlier, we communicate in letters, and when they get the information, they send it to me, and in turn I give it to my father, now more securely than before. The interception of Bunker Hill intelligence will forever make me feel guilty."

"Bunker Hill?" The young, silent officer finally speaks, but at the same time as his General causing an awkward pause of silence. They both bow their heads in apology for interjecting one another accidentally.

She gazes at the Captain during his and her father's brief exchange, her mind ringing with disgust because he wrote the inappropriate letter to her, but her face is polite and reserved for the sake of being in the presence of her father and a General. Also, she didn't want to call the young man out on it just yet, still putting the pieces together and figuring out what type of man he is. He can be stereotyped as a 'pretty boy,' though.

"Yes, Captain Tallmadge. I was surprised myself when I received the important contents on that information. How much the outcome would've been different if my letter came through.."

"As I keep telling you, about feeling guilty, do not. The past is already written, and now we can only move on, improving every day," her father looks down at her with a pleased look, meaning she said everything she was supposed to.

"Gentlemen," Washington continues, turning to the two men in front of him, still staggered at what this supposed to be court martial turned out be. "I've asked you hear today to determine if this, the letter from the man on Long Island, was a fluke, and perhaps more importantly if this fluke can be repeated."

"I can perfectly assure you, sir, you will be perfectly convinced of my friend's integrity and loyalty," Captain Tallmadge says breaking the long silence after my father's previous words.

"Well according to you he took an oath of loyalty to King George," General Scott claims emphasizing King George, looking over Captain Tallmadge's shoulder with a glower. Lillian thinks: _sounds similar to what Baker did, but she wasn't sure of any oath. He must have in order to be a true British soldier._

The Captain grips his helmet resting in his left arm, "Only to get closer to the enemy, to learn their secrets."

"Traditional military reconnaissance is a proven discipline. Multiple scouts produce multiple reports which may be cross referenced to ensure verification. In addition soldiers are trained to recognize-"

"Actually, soldier's make terrible spies," Mr. Sackett's placid voice breaks in. "All that discipline drilled into their movements makes them easier to spot unlike us civilians." Mr. Sackett comes to a stand next to Lillian, nodding his head at her when he said 'civilians.'

Lillian raises her hand half way to break into the discussion once more, "Also a common error, as my father mentioned earlier on observing the enemy, it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. A lie? It depends on the person and how well they cover it up, but I believe lying can be a military offensive just as well."

The room was so silent a whole British militia could pass by without noticing them. The three men only stared at her, the General with his jaw slacked, she noted, and Captain Tallmadge seemed to confirm her statements as true with his eyes, glistening with respect for her? Her father was looking down at his feet. _Either he is proud of me, or I am speaking too much. Sorry if I acted wrongly, father._

She adds lastly, feeling disquiet, but did well to keep it out of her voice, "And a soldier's exposure to the cruelty of war, no matter how trained he may be, can without a doubt deter their minds from reality slowly, and when given orders to merely observe the enemy, they can take that for granted."

"Well said Miss Lillian," Mr. Sackett praises her and she returns a sweet smile.

"You as well Mr. Sackett."

"Excuse me, sir and Miss," General Scott hisses. "But why, exactly, are you in this room?"

Lillian sucked in an accidental loud breath at the General's words, clearly he is not thinking clearly.

"We've been invited here by your Commander and Chief to opine on the business at hand," Mr. Sackett places his hands on his hips in a relaxed, thinking manner.

Lillian's father, who was still looking down at his feet during the unpleasant exchange of words, finally turns to the General and explains in his breathy voice once more, "Mr. Sackett came to us by way of William Durr and commended him as a person of intrigue and secrecy. As for Lillian: being my daughter and I personally commend her to be a person of secrecy as well. That should be enough reason for my reason is my own, General. You're not the only one looking out for all."

"In speaking of intrigue, I must say I find this young man's chain of agents very intriguing," Mr. Sackett looks at the Captain in well interested regard.

"I want this chain notion explored," Washington orders. "And presented upon my return, any questions?"

The two officers were stumbling over their words, unsure of what to say, until the Captain nods his head, and begins to ask:

"Well, yes your Excellency. The letter I transcribed regarding the Hessians' in Trenton, it was unsigned. I mean to ask how did you come by the name Abraham Woodhull?"

"Excellent question," Washington looks at the Captain with a light smile. "And for you, Mr. Sackett?"

"Plenty, but not for you sir," Mr. Sackett says at his writing desk once more, writing with his quill.

"Ah," Washington hums, taking this as his cue to leave, and he goes without another word out the door. The door clicks shut with squeaky hinges, leaving the General, Captain, Mr. Sackett, and Lillian alone.

Lillian holds back her laughter with a knowing look at the Captain who stares at the door like a confused puppy for her father not answering his question.

"He means to answer your question on a later date, Captain," Lillian informs the young man who snaps his gaze to her the moment he heard her light melodic voice. "He always says that when he isn't willing to give away his true thoughts and reasons."

Her eyes met his like a diver into blue unknown waters, both full of curiosity. Benjamin, however, noted she watched him like a hawk the entire time, as if she knew something he didn't, and this unnerved him slightly.

What no one knew, however, was that the meeting would drag on throughout the day and into nightfall.

 **A/N: *laughs hysterically* two updates in a day?! UNBELIEVABLE! Finally this interaction happened as I always dreamed. I hope you all enjoyed! Please review! Thanks! Stay tuned for Chapter 11.**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	11. Chapter 11: Mr Culpeper pt2

**Chapter 11:**

Since George Washington left General Scott, Captain Tallmadge, Mr. Sackett, and Lillian, they've been conversing about spying and their beliefs on how it should be done. This went on for hours.

Meanwhile it was only Captain Tallmadge and Miss Lillian Washington sitting at the table. Lillian remained quiet and rather intently listening to the argument, and at the same time staring at Tallmadge, as if trying to read his soul. The Captain takes notice of all of this because all he can do is look at her, when she isn't looking of course, but he pays mind to not ogle, this time. How could he not tear his eyes away from this young sophisticated lady? His Commander and Chief's daughter of all ladies! He's never been one to be around many women, even when Caleb in past instances tried to get him speaking to a woman, particularly tavern wenches of which who made him swallow his own bile. He always had an excuse to avoid such encounters, and it took some raised words and a glare to get the message across Caleb that he didn't want any dealing with a tavern wench. Now, for a sophisticated lady to be beside him, he's been too engulfed in his teaching career before the war and earning some money to his name to even consider courting.

 _Courting._ This word has long since been pushed to the back of his mind and buried under his duty to his country, own well-being, and friends. He has no time for a woman, especially being a young twenty-two year old man fighting in a war.

Captain Tallmadge discreetly looks to Lillian Washington, who is now looking back at General Scott and Mr. Sackett with interest, and he shifts his feet uncomfortably and unsure of what to say. Should he say anything? Anything?

He diverts his eyes so quickly when she looks back at him, he feels like he is back in primary school trying to cheat off of someone's paper.

 _But she is beautiful. Tremendously alive._

If his men ever saw her they'd be jesting how she got her good looks from Washington, and how _of course he'd have a daughter since he has no sons_ -

He grimaces as he drinks his cold coffee, thinking how men could think such thoughts. He couldn't bear to replay in his mind what he heard from men in this army. His father never raised him to be a man of mind, but a man of morals. The ever circulating, insulting words of his Commander only makes him angrier, but if he ever heard a man in this camp or anywhere insult his daughter, or his wife, he'd see to it they are brought to justice and taught a lesson.

 _I swear if they do not quick arguing like a bunch of ninny cats_ … Lillian trails off in thought, ignoring the eyes of the young man next to her. It's a good thing she had her alterations on her chest, but since she is covered up modestly, what could he be staring at? She felt self-conscious.

He is only staring at her face when she isn't looking, locking eyes with hers when she looks his way curiously but with a hidden emotion in her gaze, and he couldn't put his finger on it. He also takes a sip of bitter coffee in his tin mug every now and then, she notes.

"Captain Tallmadge, are you of the cavalry?" Lillian asks him, taking an empty glass cup from the table, frowning seeing residue from water being held in it before, so she reached across the table for a napkin, touching hands with the Captain in his blue coat with buff facings for half a second.

"I'm sorry-"

"Thank you," she smiles at his manners for helping her, speaking at the same time as he. She takes the napkin from him, and begins cleaning the inside of the glass until it's clear of all impurities. "No harm done, there's nothing to apologize for."

He bowed his head, "You're welcome. And yes I am of the cavalry. Captain of the Second Continental Light Dragoons," he answers politely.

She sets the glass down, recognition spreading across her face, "It was you and your men who lead the successful ambush in Connecticut then. Congratulations, Captain, that is no small feat."

Benjamin found himself smirking, his face heat up, and feeling a pride swirl in him at such a compliment —from a lovely lady nonetheless!

"Thank you, Miss Washington. I'm surprised it has been rumored, and reaching your lovely ears."

"Why of course, every Patriot occupied area knows. At least those who care to know about the cause and its latest updates. You'd be surprised how many supporters there are. As for me knowing, I have attended many functions and visited with my fellow countrymen who have told many. I can't imagine how thrilled they are for our recent victory at Trenton and Princeton."

She ignored the 'lovely ears' part, at least tried to. One part of her mind screamed 'he is trouble and no good,' but the other thought his words genuine and chivalrous.

Captain Tallmadge reached for his coffee once more, and took a swig to keep his mind straight, but the bitterness makes him lick his lips in slight repugnance at the colder taste. "That is well to hear, and many of us do not get told what is going on outside our army. You have lifted my spirits greatly, Miss Washington."

"Please, _Mrs_. Washington is my mother and Miss Washington makes me sound old. You may call me Miss Lillian," She expresses, drinking her water now, after pouring a certain appropriate amount into the glass, all part of lady etiquette.

He bows his head, "Yes, my lady. And if I may I say, you are more resolute and beautiful than how my General described you. What you said about soldiers and lying was entirely true, and I'm sure you being an _impeccable_ spy is also true."

She tilts her head, almost swallowing her water the wrong way at his sudden assertion; very confused and slightly angry as she fights an embarrassing blush trying to take up her cheeks because her father talked about her, "The-Thank you, Captain. My father talks about me? I doubt that, he is very secretive of me, especially with men."

"As he is, and he should be for one so exquisite with two roles in this war while living a delicate life. He doesn't speak about you ever to anyone as far as I know. And, I- I must introduce myself fully because in years past I, Benjamin Tallmadge from Yale University, translated your well written essay to Latin," the Captain says with hands folded in his lap, now more reserved hearing the argument die down.

 _Found him._

"I knew I recognized your name from somewhere-" As she reaches for his letter in her hidden dress pocket, and attempt to form a response, the two men enter the room once more. She'll have to wait.

Lillian sat berating herself for thinking his words were noble. _But they are… Could he have written the letter? He could be living two separate lives. He fits the description of what Nathan Hale had told her a year ago: 'a gentleman', which Captain Tallmadge radiates at this current moment-_ her mind stops like wheels on a carriage. He was staring at her rather lengthy when she walked in at first, not appropriate. There is a time and place for that, and certain women who will allow it. Lillian, however, was not one of those women, loose women. And a 'delicate life?' No, she lived nothing but that. ' _You're taking it the wrong way'_ a place inside her asks that she has been ignoring the entire time. Her kind heart.

 _He is young for an officer._ She thinks with her heart now. _He is handsome; she can't lie to herself about that. He has brown hair much like her own, but his is pulled up into the traditional queue and ribbon, slicked back with a little tuft waved over making him have a sense of rough edge, but his swooning, puppy face, glowing blue eyes, and oval chiseled face made up for it. Many young men in his position and age take their role either seriously or not. With his neutral front and focused face, he is one of the serious ones. I can somehow respect that, for now. Now it's a matter of seeing and figuring out what branch of seriousness he is on- using it to his advantage for military glory along with his looks, or a real man- a gentleman, only doing his duty for his country. He is also a man who hasn't seen a woman for some time; she just may let him off with warning like her father, who must have dismissed his court martial._

 _Wait he was put on court martial! Now she has to figure this out. Who is this confounding man?!_

 **Lillian's POV**

"Benjamin," Mr. Sackett says, walking quickly into the dining room, and turning to me. "Miss Lillian. I apologize but we have been distracted from the task at hand, a meeting of sorts to talk about both of your espionage ways. I will begin with ladies first."

The three pairs of eyes turn to me expectantly as I gather my thoughts.

"Of course," I bow my head. "What will you like to know."

"As you mentioned earlier you write letters to your contacts, civilians?" Mr. Sackett asks inquisitively, ignoring the sigh that escapes General Scott's mouth.

"Yes sir," I furrow my eyebrows at his first question. He must like to build up the suspense. "I am my father's daughter, I may be adopted but I am his daughter all the same. Therefore my connections with people are widely scattered, of all classes. All acquaintances, as I told you earlier."

"Which still surprises me because you are very likable, how can someone not want to become a trusted friend of yours?"

"Now that I will not answer, there are too many reasons. Perhaps another day I will tell you my personal thoughts, if that is any of your business," I responded curtly, not liking his phrase of question. Benjamin seemed to look at me concerned and eyed Mr. Sackett for asking a personal question.

Mr. Sackett outright laughs, "Perfect, that's the answer I was expecting with attitude. I'd hope you kept up this barrier between anyone who confronts you. That is a main essential to being a spy, especially a _woman_ spy."

I shake my head with a smirk, "I assure you Mr. Sackett I am no spy. The people in my considered chain are the spies. I am only—"

"Head spy, the handler? Much like this man across from me?"

 _Great she has something in common with the Captain she is being wary of. Good grief._

"Sure, why not," I reply.

"You said two were main contacts, you don't have to name any names- but I will like an idea of what they do in order to achieve this information, such as their location and how your letters are worded and sent about."

"One you may know well, Nathan Hale, of this army," I say. At this, Mr. Sackett's face seems to crumple with sorrow. I pay no mind to it, however. "The other is— a British soldier on Long Island."

General Scott spluttered, I jumped in my seat forgetting he was present.

"A British soldier? That is not considered a civilian!" The General asks heatedly. "How in the world are you-"

"I ask myself that every day, General. If you calm yourself I will explain," I say under my breath.

"Please do," he folds his hands on the table as he sits down across from me on the other end.

"He is a Patriot at heart. Before he, my only other friend, left for his post, he informed me he would tell me any secrets he comes across to help my father out. If I may add, he is the one who acquired the information from Bunker Hill and Dorchester. All proven accurate," I say with a final tone.

"Wow," Benjamin looks at me with a praising look, one that makes me feel giddy inside. I reach for my glass of water to avoid his blue eyed gaze. He looked like he had just as many questions for me as Mr. Sackett does, but that wasn't going to happen today, or possibly ever. Only I will be asking him questions when I get the chance.

"You, my dear, have the perfect inside source. No wonder your father wishes for you to continue in your efforts," Mr. Sackett says smirking as if he won a cart full of money.

"Yes," I look at my hands in my lap, feeling undeserved of this attention because I didn't even cover the details. "But partly because of my stubbornness for helping out with the cause, he wishes to keep me happy."

A lighthearted chuckle escaped from all the men's lips.

"But it is dangerous. I still can't understand why he'll risk you, why not his son?" Scott asks, returning to his stern frown, silencing the light laughs.

"I agree, it is dangerous, but you still don't know the beginning of it," I say, and their faces turn serious once more. "Nor the details in it all. It's a long story."

"I think we have more than enough time-" Scott gets cut off, again.

"I'm sure it is a long story, but that can be discussed on a later date. I only wish to know now how you communicate, now," Mr. Sackett asks, waving off my attempt of telling the long story.

"Since the Bunker Hill information was intercepted, I began sending specially equipped daggers that open at the hilt to store hidden information. Nathan encouraged this as it would be seen as sending weapons for the cause. But only he, my father, and my British contact, know of this communicating."

"Wait-wait," Mr. Sackett interrupts before I get carried away. "What about the others?

"Others?"

"The civilians other than these two main contacts? You said you have connections else where's. Do they receive the letters in this way?"

"The other civilians, most of which I only met once or twice, proved to be not useful as of late, and many if not never. If they find anything out, they will find their own way to get it to me or my father safely."

General Scott was smiling this whole part of the conversation, "So civilians are not useful? From your words they seem to be unaware of what goes on around them and could care less about spying for information on the enemy. And it is unorganized on their part, and yours, it seems, if you are this _handler_."

"I never said they were not useful, General. But majority of them, yes, they do not have the heart to seek such intelligence, but I will say they have kept quiet just as I ordered them to. From my belief it is because I am a woman, unfit for this underground 'dirty work.' In fact I'll be direct with you now Mr. Sackett, I only communicate with the British soldier now. Nathan Hale has not spoken to me for some time."

"Because he is dead," Mr. Sackett announces.

My mind stopped, body froze, and any words I was about to say died in my throat.

"Dead?"

Mr. Sackett brings a hand to his forehead, and lets out a long breath, "I guess some things your father keeps from you, or he just hasn't gotten around telling you yet."

" _How?"_ I whisper hoarsely. " _When_?"

"In September. He was hung as a spy in New York, caught by British soldiers trying to escape," Mr. Sackett informed her, and she allows herself to meet his eyes which are a mirror reflection of hers. No wonder he looked crestfallen at her earlier mention of him.

"That man I swear, after I told him not to go there," I trail off, and shaking my head, not crying at all. My tear ducts are well rusted and dry after the grief I've been through, but I will not cry in front of men, these men.

"As I was saying, I only communicate with one now, which does make things easier and it feels safer," I say.

Benjamin was cut off by Mr. Sackett, which had me wondering what he wanted to say because he didn't try speaking again. Possibly to give me time to grieve? I have time for that later.

"True, but strength in numbers is always the best than having the one needle in a haystack. There's always chance of them being found out," Mr. Sackett looks at me, adjusting his glasses once more.

"Nice metaphor, sir," I comment with a small smile.

"Thank you, now, to give you a breather and I know a lot more of your side other than you getting yourself into some situations to get some intel'. Now it's time for you Captain, and your Long Island friends," Mr. Sackett takes a handful of nuts and begins peeling them and eating them.

I glance over at the Captain who was looking at each of our faces, looking unsure. General Scott stood up from his place to walk around the foyer, still not fully accepting everything I said probably. But the General went to a candle to light it, now realizing it was getting dark in here because it is already nightfall outside! When will this meeting end? How long was I exactly talking?

"Where would I even begin, sir?" He asks with his low, toneless voice. A slight New York accent mixed in there.

"The beginning is always best," Mr. Sackett sets the uncracked nuts down and picks up his quill to begin writing once more.

* * *

"So she then hangs a black petticoat on a drying line to signal to my courier when the intelligence is ready," Captain Tallmadge explains with his hands.

"Not bad," Mr. Sackett comments.

The Captain reaches to Lillian's side of the table for a small napkin to help his explaining, which she finds a little endearing. She usually speaks with her hands when only around her family because, according to the lady's etiquette book, she must be poised and keep all limbs to herself. Perhaps since this is a laidback meeting, she can relax a little, but she is in front of strange men. She may know their names, but she still doesn't know them, truly.

"She hangs napkins to signify which cove is safe for the rendezvous."

'Wait, wait, wait-" Mr. Sackett says slowly, dropping his quill, glancing at General Scott standing against the wall behind him, and back to Benjamin.

"Rendezvous? Tell me your agent meets your courier in person," Sackett said, looking slightly apprehensive.

"Well...of course," he answered, wondering why Sackett was confirming what he had already stated.

"Failure!" Mr. Sackett exclaims.

"How so?" Lillian asks Mr. Sackett just as bewildered. "I can't tell you how many times I met one of my people face to face and they gave me information, at least his agents had designated coves-"

"Death!" Mr. Sackett looks at her as if he is about to have a seizure. "No, no- courier and agent are never in the same place at the same time. And the handler-" Mr. Sackett looks at both me and Benjamin, "should not be in the middle of it at all."

Benjamin frowned as he glanced up at Scott, seeing that the general was merely observing the discussion and would be providing no vocal support for his arguments. "But, then how do you expect for them to make the transfer?" he asked, focusing back on Sackett.

Sackett gave a noisy sigh as Ben noticed that the older man clearly rolled his eyes up at the heavens – a gesture that greatly reminded him of what had happened mere hours earlier. Clearly, even after the man himself had redirected their attention back up to continue their spy chain discussion, the presence of Lillian Washington was exerting an influence as it is on him. Something within the shadows of the flickering candlelight in the room they are presently in that had played across Miss Lillian's face, making her dress, hair, and skin glow golden, had told him that the woman is just as part of this ordeal as he is, woman or not, and she is vital going by her attentiveness and her father's words from earlier.

"You," Sackett sighed before leaning forward again, "pre-determine the location to drop...that is to hide _le lettre de confidentiale_ in question." The older man stood up and started to approach the clock that was located in the foyer, waving a piece of folded parchment. "You then arrange a later time for retrieval." Ben also stood up, taking the small note book with him as he watched as Sackett opened the glass door to the head of the clock and placed the piece of parchment in before winding the clock back to six. "A dead drop," Sacket proclaimed as chimes rang, "to ensure that your agents don't drop dead from being caught _enflangrante delictum_."

Benjamin had to admit, the idea had a lot of merit, and as he jotted it down, he heard Scott say, "Which demonstrates the folly of this scheme. If a single link is broken, the entire chain is rendered useless. And Miss Lillian, since you only have one contact, really, it may be already rendered useless."

"He's still alive, and so am I. I'll find a way like I always do _carpe diem videre eam_ ," she adds that simple Latin phrase in the end, 'seize the day and see it through', which had the men in the room, other than Mr. Sackett, look staggered at her. If she looked at Benjamin, she would see his eyes lighting up with a strong liking to her, a look that can make a girl faint, but she wasn't allowing it. Her hand patted the letter in the pocket of her dress subtly; making sure it's still there.

"You are full of surprises at every moment Miss Lillian," General Scott directed at her with a slight eye roll, but he smiled in compliment.

She smiles softly, "It is never a dull moment with me."

"She went to college; she needed Latin for her study in the medical field. Which… Can be a perfect place for you, to treat wounded soldiers, _enemy soldiers_ and rise intelligence out of them," Mr. Sackett wonders aloud.

"Sir!" She stands from her chair, repulsed at the idea, and so was General Scott and a certain Captain.

"Her father would never allow that," Scott said, glancing at the young woman for a second.

"Who says he has to know?" Mr. Sackett asks.

"I do," Lillian says, and the room grew more silent. "He knows of all my plans for my _chain_ , and who I contact, where I go, and what I avoid. I'm in danger already as it is just being his 'little girl.' And my nurse practicing does not take place at enemy locations, nor will it ever be. Being seen there will cause suspicion and I am bound to be recognized by someone."

"I will not say you are wrong, but I will explore that notion still, there is potential," Mr. Sackett simply says.

"Potential to be _dead_ ," she exclaims. It is a clever idea, but she isn't that dumb to see it is highly risky. She shudders at the thought of treating a red coat, dying in her care, and her asking ' _what news from the front-'_ She ends that horrible daydream instantly. She can't even handle the word 'dead'.

"Sir, perhaps we can continue that idea another day, it is already growing late," Benjamin says calmly, causing Lillian to look at him thankfully and he nods his head in turn, his shoulders relaxing when she settled back by the window, looking past the curtain and at the snow falling heavily. He went to stand next to her, and ask her if she's alright.

"Yes. Where was I? Ah!" Sackett enters back into the room with Scott. "Which is why we use encryption, sir. To shield the men, not the message." Scott eye rolls at Mr. Sackett, as they, and Lillian, took their seat once more as Sackett continued to ask, "Captain, which enciphering method have you been using thus far? Rozefuur? Trademius? Personally, I prefer Duma."

Standing by the window, opposite side of Lillian, guiltily, Ben opened his mouth to answer that what messages that had been passed so far were not encrypted, but he couldn't, and unfortunately, Sackett took that opportunity to look up. The man's face fell like a stone slab as he heard him say, "Please tell me that you're using encryption."

He mutely shook his head negative. Somehow, disappointing Sackett made him feel like a child again. "Well...I was told you were a graduate of Yale," Sackett stated, frowning.

That expression, coupled with the clear disappointment in the level of knowledge that he knew that he was displaying irritated him, but he wasn't sure if it was himself that he was irritated at or the fact that there was a clear lack of confidence within Sackett's tone. "Yes, sir, class of seventy-three," he stated.

"One can suppose that you've studied Greek, Latin, and Hebrew?"

He voiced his affirmative in the same languages that the older man had listed before taking his seat, saying, "I am a quick study, Mr. Sackett."

"Then at least we have somewhere to start," Sackett said before taking a thin, rectangular note book from his side of the table and tossed it over to him. "Then commit this to memory. Miss Lillian you can take it when he is through, since you both seem to be on the same level here."

"Yes sir," she answers, returning to her seat, looking over at the book and reaching for her glass of water to take a sip in attempt to keep her awake.

"She doesn't have to be forced to read this, sir. If you expect us to combine our chains," Benjamin states aloud.

"Combine? Where did you get that idea?" Lillian asks him with a raised brow.

Benjamin looks at her plainly shrugging his shoulders slightly, "It would seem easier and better to stick together, and have a concrete foundation than to be separate and operating on our own accord. And strength and numbers is our ultimatum."

Sackett intervenes, "Having two separate chains seems like a lot, and more spread out to gain more intelligence, but to be together is key—" the man shakes his head. "There are pros and cons to that idea all together."

"Mostly cons, sir, in my opinion," Lillian says to the old man. "And it won't be our own accord. I will be operating under you and my father's order as so, depending on how life threatening it is."

"But we'll be separate," Benjamin states, not liking where this is going. She looks at him pointedly now, and he begins to see the fieriness in her eyes.

"It is safer that way whereas if I and my contacts fail, it won't bring your chain down," she explains her opinion gently, a sharp contrast to her visible mood.

Ben placed his quill and notebook down and gingerly picked up the book and thinking over Lillian's words as Scott said, "We don't have time for this. The commander expects results, not word play."

"But we're ahead of the game thanks to Captain Tallmadge and Miss Lillian here," Mr. Sackett says and both of the people in question glance up from the book; Ben was venturing as he flipped through the pages of Sackett's notebook, and had it tilted in his hands at an angle to give Lillian a glimpse of what she is expected to read, _if_ she has to.

Mr. Sackett continues, "Clearly, I usually have to concoct a legend to embed agents into enemy territory. A poultry trader, a fish monger, a schoolteacher. It requires a wardrobe, documentation, and training. The brilliance of Mr. Woodhull is his life – it's his legend, and there's no reason to invent a false one – he's already living it."

"Who pays for him?" Scott asked.

"Hm?" Sackett questioned, looking a bit puzzled.

"Well, if the farmer's not farming, who pays for his expenses? His food, lodging, money to bribe sources?"

Sackett cracked a walnut as he said, "We do, of course."

"Congress will never approve intelligence salaries while we try to cobble together bounties for our regulars!"

"Congress doesn't need to know about it. We'll draw from a secret fund, authorized by Washington to be used for discretion."

 _Better not be mine, father_ , Lillian thinks.

Fed up, Scott pushed his chair back, got up, and left. "General, please!" Ben stood up, trying to call after him, "we've been asked to explore a chain of agents that might work. Some debates are to be expected."

"Explore whatever you want, Tallmadge," Scott answered, returning with his coat in hand. "As the Head of Intelligence, I will never approve of this. It's time you understood how the chain of command works." The general picked up his tricorn and left, letting the door slam close.

"Huh," Sackett muttered, chewing on a piece of walnut, "that was predictable."

As much as Ben wanted to sigh in exasperation, he held it in and merely closed Sackett's notebook. Washington wanted the feasibility to be explored, but with the lack of trust and the vehement disagreement between Scott and Sackett, and Miss Lillian's disagreement with mostly Sackett and himself– this entire juncture was doomed to fail even before the onset.

Lillian cleared her throat lightly in the long, awkward silence, "I think it is best we all retire for the night, we discussed much already. We can continue in the morning."

Captain Tallmadge only stared at the table in front of him, thinking of General Scott's words and unnecessary temper.

Mr. Sackett smiled, "Probably for the best."

Lillian pushed her chair back, and stood up before Captain Tallmadge could react, he was going to pull the chair out for her.

"Goodnight gentlemen. I look forward to tomorrow," she says lastly, and about to walk out the room before she remembered.

"Oh, this is for you, Captain," she adds handing him his 'love letter' that was for her. "Sorry for not responding but the biting winter cold, and the soon looming hot season had me angry and moody already. Perhaps while you're in your quarters tonight you can think of ways to make up for it, such as not looking at me, writing, or _thinking_ of me again. Good day gentlemen."

And with that she walked out the door with an unimpressed frown, remembering Captain Tallmadge's very puzzled face, taken aback, and Mr. Sackett choking on his walnuts.

"What did you write her, Captain?" Mr. Sackett murmured with a hiss, partly knowing what it could be, and that this wasn't going to end well.

 **A/N: Long chapter! Sorry for the delay, life got busy, and sleep was the number one priority, but finally I was able to finish this chapter. Lillian gave Ben the letter he sent her! And all of them are in disagreement, what can be expected in the next chapter?**

 **BTW, what did you all think of the first episode of SEASON 3? I thought it was AMAZING, it definitely kicked it off well.**

 **Thanks to those who followed and favorited! Now its review time! :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	12. Chapter 12: Bloody Trust is What We Need

**Chapter 12:**

"What, you know them all, trust them all?" Sackett asked Benjamin Tallmadge, through it sounded more like a statement than a question.

The two men stand outside in the lightly falling snow by a small campfire behind a covered cart filled with supplies.

"We all grew up together," Ben answered, kicking the dirt that surrounded the campfire, and avoiding looking in the direction where Lillian is tending to a sick soldier outside an infirmary tent. He practically rung Caleb's neck last night after he read the contents of her letter—his letter! It turned out he was framed by his friend Caleb, for the most inane reason.

 _"CALEB!" Benjamin shouted, breathing heavily, face puckered red._

 _"Yes Tall-boy? The boys are asleep all around us I wouldn't stir them—" Caleb felt hands around his neck suffocate him as he was pulled into his friend's tent and thrown to the cold, sloppy ground roughly._

 _"Oi- what are you doing?!" Caleb raised his voice, shoving Ben in the gut with strength that had the Captain stumble backwards, and clench his stomach with a hiss, but he regained his position above his friend holding him down and gripping his neck and hands pinned to his side._

 _"That's my question to you! What were you thinking when you sent that provocative and inappropriate letter to Miss Lillian WASHINGTON?!"_

 _Caleb froze, in deep thought, before breaking into a foolish smile, "What? You're going to sock it to my face?"_

 _"Agh!" Ben let go of his friend's neck with a grunt, and backed off of him, standing up only to fall onto his cot, feeling a bruise begin to form on his stomach where Caleb shoved him. "Oh-Oh I should sock it to you Caleb! Do you know how upset- embarrassed I am? How upset she must've been and still is? I didn't even write it but she believes I did!"_

 _"Of course she does because you signed it," Caleb states the obvious casually._

 _Ben glares heatedly, "Tricked me into signing it! Answer my question, what were you thinking?"_

 _Caleb barked out laughter, standing up and brushing himself off seeing the crumbled letter on the desk and his horrible handwriting glistening in the little candlelight, "Why, I was reconnecting you with a woman of your past. How come you never told me about her? Afraid I'd show you up and take her away? You can't keep secrets from me Benny, especially women."_

 _Ben's eyes are as wide as saucers, "Where did you get that idea—oh the Latin paper! I only translated it, I never, NEVER, met her in my life, nor did I attain any affection towards her."_

 _"A good looking lass like that? I'm beginning to think you have no attraction to the opposite sex, I'm worried for you now."_

 _"Caleb," Ben warns, breathing hitching, feeling the anger boil in him. "She is a lady; no tavern wench like you'd pick up in your voyages and trekking. She is also Washington's daughter and- and she has a part to play in our espionage."_

 _Caleb's smile drops, "What are you saying; she's more important of a person than what she already is?"_

 _"Yes she is important," Ben looks at him mordantly. "And I talked with her during the meeting with General Scott, Mr. Sackett, and the Commander and Chief. She was watching me like a hawk the entire time, judging me- now I know why she was. She thinks me a nasty, low-life bastard!"_

 _"You are not that Ben, far from it and God above knows it, and I apologize for what I'd done," Caleb sighs, feeling the guilt rise in him._

 _"Is this really you? Apologizing to me?" Ben smirked before licking his dry lips, and bleeding lower lip from biting it out of anger. "You're going with me tomorrow to talk to her, and you'll apologize to her."_

 _"Of course, I accept full responsibility for my actions. I was only trying to help you out you looked stressed that day, and then I sifted through your papers and found that gold, communicating with the Virginia Gold herself," Caleb grins. "Why did you carry it with you?"_

 _"In case a doctor ever had to heal me I suppose, Miss Lillian's theory has no flaws and seems right to not bloodlet' anymore blood than what has been lost, amongst many other possible facts," Benjamin answered. "And I don't need a woman to take away my stress, unlike you."_

 _"You'll learn that one day, women keep you stress-free and give you all the pleasure you can dream of," Caleb smiles at his friend._

 _Benjamin gives a huff of laughter, "How ironic, I heard it's the exact opposite from the married men in this camp."_

 _"Who says you have to get married to feel ultimate pleasure?"_

 _"God, the Bible, morals—"_

 _"Yeah I know," Caleb bats his hand, wanting to forget this part of the conversation. "Anyway do you really think Lillian Washington is George's relative?" Caleb asked, sitting on a stool in his friend's tent while Ben sat at his desk shuffling through a stack of papers by candlelight, both fully recovered from their little brawl and argument._

 _"Of course not. A woman who looks like that couldn't be related to him," Ben said as he distractedly re-read a letter. "And I mean that in the kindest way possible, also, she is adopted."_

 _Caleb let out a low whistle at this new fact, "Sounds like you've taken a shining to her."_

 _"I merely noticed, as any good spy leader would, that she has a lovely…personage. Although I think she's also playing at being the meek helpmeet for her reputation. Something in her eyes—she's alert and poised, prepared, but whether she's hiding or hunting, I don't know." Ben stared at the book Mr. Sackett gave him in front of him before shaking his head slightly and refocusing. Hunting… That's what he saw in the corners of her eyes. She has plans for something._

He shakes his head slightly, remembering his thoughts from last night as he took a chance to glance at the tent Lillian was near, in casual riding clothes and boots. She was currently pouring medicine onto a spoon and smiling at the man she was giving it to, he must've made a joke.

"Miss Lillian! Come over when you get the chance!" Mr. Sackett called over his shoulder to the woman who quickly looked up. The old man must've saw his point of focus causing him to call her over, and he immediately regrets looking up feeling ashamed of 'his' letter.

She nodded her head from afar, wiping her hands on the sides of her skirts, and called back, "Yes sir."

"You can't hide away from her Captain. Whatever you wrote her, she didn't like it," Mr. Sackett turns back to Ben with a whisper, and he lets out a long sigh.

"I didn't write it, my courier did, he thought it'd be comical," he settled for saying after pacing along the side of the cart they were currently by.

Ben had been up nearly the entire night, studying and taking notes out of Sackett's codebook and somehow had fallen asleep on the desk. Morning had found pieces of parchment stuck to the side of his face as the sounds of Sackett doing whatever he did in the morning caused the noise that woke him up. Now though, with the crisp cold mid-morning air and sun invigorating him, he found himself briefly surveying the ground before him. The light coating of snow on the cold, hard ground did nothing to deter the hardier campfires that dotted the camp. Even the tiny splash of dirt that managed to get caught in the campfire merely caused a small hiss that sounded more like a displeased possum than something menacing. Still, he ceased his actions and returned his attention to Sackett's boiling pot of water that contained a single egg.

"That is what they all say. I suggest you and she begin communicating if you wish to keep up this notion of a spy chain, and "combining" as you so phrased it," Mr. Sackett said rubbing his gloved hands together out of coldness.

"I'll talk to her, I have it all planned out, sir," Ben watches Lillian walk towards them in her sleek, sheathe blue dress bustled in the back into a bow with her dark purple cloak wrapped around her with a fur hood, making her already big brown eyes stand out. The snow blowing around her only made her look like a sweet, yet stately fawn, hiding in her mother's fur.

"Sorry for the wait, I had a sick patient," Lillian came up to the wagon, walking past Benjamin with a curt nod, and going to prop herself up on the open back of the cart, a lock of her light brown hair looking dark under the cloudy snowy sky, falling out of its half-up-half-down do and framing her face.

Mr. Sackett laughs, "Yes make yourself comfortable, it won't be a long chat though. I just needed both of my handlers in this pre-meeting. So childhood friends for your chain," Sacket murmured in continuation of his previous conversation with Ben, though Ben was not sure that he heard admiration in the tone of the man's voice. "Fascinating. Wouldn't have thought to try that."

Lillian let out a small giggle, "Me neither." Mr. Sackett shared a light chuckle with her as he stirred the small boiling pot.

"It wasn't exactly planned," he admitted, unsure if the praise was warranted.

"Don't tell anyone that! Don't tell anyone else Mr. Woodhull's name." The older man plucked the egg out with a spoon before rubbing it with a towel in hand. He then placed the towel that had been used to dry the shell of the egg before reaching for a saucer that contained some liquid and a small sharpened branch within it. "Time to gift Mr. Woodhull an alias." As Sackett began to scrawl something on the egg, he continued to say, "One by which other agents shall know him as."

Ben frowned as he thought he misheard Sackett and asked, "I'm sorry, the other agents?"

He received a grunt of affirmation as his answer before Sackett said, "Our plans for your farmer are needed to nurture the seed that I have planted for the last year and a half. One of them is sprouting right now – right under the enemy's nose."

Lillian's eyes widened, "You have a British officer as well."

Sackett hums in agreement, "That I do, but at least this man can be a confirmed patriot. I spoke to your father earlier about your British friend, Baker, and how it is beginning to look like he is a true redcoat."

"Perhaps he is, but he hasn't stopped writing me and giving me correct intelligence," she responds looking down at her hands when Sackett mentioned her friend's name. "I attain some trust towards him somehow, and as I informed you yesterday trust is hard to come by from me."

"Which is why I do not doubt him as your father is, and I trust you and your judgement, Miss Lillian," Sackett told her honestly.

 _He doubts him?_ Lillian thinks. _I'm surprised he doesn't doubt me as well then._

Ben, meanwhile, pressed his lips together as he realized the implications of Sackett's shrewd plan. He couldn't risk his friends' lives; especially with what Sackett had implied was happening. "I'm sorry, but this is not how it's going to work. You see, Abe...he's a very cautious man. He won't meet with anybody he doesn't already know."

There was also the matter that Anna was involved. He could not risk his friends' lives, especially since they were civilian.

"He'll have to," Sackett insisted, as he held the egg to the fire for a few moments before removing it and blowing on the shell.

"No, he won't," Ben argued. "He'll quit, is what he'll do." Lillian's ears perking at his defending tone, a tone she admires in men. She inwardly shakes her head again and dismisses that thought on admiring his tone.

"I thought he was your friend," Sackett stated, rubbing the shell of the egg on the sleeve of his coat.

"Yes, which is exactly why he trusts me to protect him."

Sackett made a noise of agreement before handing him the egg, saying, "Only that which is concealed is protected. We can even conceal his name." As Ben examined the egg, looking for the writing that he had clearly seen etched on moment ago, Sackett continued to say, "Luckily for you, I am a master in the art of concealment."

Ben cracked the hard-boiled egg open and peeled the shell off, feeling Lillian's eyes on him and his hands holding the egg. However, as he turned the egg, he saw the writing to which Sackett had scrawled upon earlier. [Mr. W.] it said. Glancing up, he saw the shrewd look pass over the older man's features before disappearing into the depths of a neutral, if not indifferent expression. He had a feeling that Sackett had just silently evaluated him for some task or another, but what it was, he didn't know and wasn't sure if it would be answered.

The mumbles of a light voice in departure caught his ears as he saw Lillian walk away from Mr. Sackett towards the cluster of tents.

"Miss Lillian!" Ben calls after her dropping the egg in the snow in the process and stepping on it to ensure it's unreadable and out of sight. Lillian was walking away quickly as she was called over by a soldier in front of the infirmary, almost glad that she was given reason to be away from the two men.

"Yes, Captain?" She turned her head only to look at him, pausing in her walking. "If it is about our notion of a chain than it can wait, I have someone borderline death waiting for me to save them."

"It isn't about our _notion_ ," he made sure to say it hushed just as she had, with ears all around them. "It is about my letter to you, if you will hear me out and allow me to explain."

He watched her slowly turn around to face him completely, and she steps closer to him to where it was an arm's length.

"Must it be discussed out here?"

"I will make no scene out of it, my lady. It will be quick," Ben promises with pleading blue eyes.

"I'm listening."

"First," he expresses, blinking a couple times and fighting the heatedness on the back of his neck, "I apologize for the ill-written and inappropriate words it was not in my place or good mind to write to you as so."

She only stared up at him with eyes of fury and hurt, thinking if this was the best he could do at apologizing.

"Second," he adds, glancing to his left at a bearded man approaching in a wide brimmed hat and rugged, dirty attire that hasn't been washed in days… maybe weeks. "I did not write the letter, my friend did, forging my name in the process."

In that instant, her flaming fury left her eyes, replaced with shrewdness and curiosity.

Benjamin straightened his shoulders seeing her change in temperament, "Miss Lillian, this is Caleb Brewster, also my courier in our ring, who purposely wrote the shameful letter to you posing as myself, which I must say I am not such a man to think or even write in such crudeness."

Caleb tilts his hat as he bowed his head with a serious frown, "It's true, he is no such man. In every way he is respectable. I only wrote to you in his place because I came across your name in a document, thinking he was hiding a woman of his past from me- because he shows no interest in women much, you see?-"

She looked over at the Captain with a small smirk who had his eyes shut with red cheeks.

Caleb grinned at her small smile from his side comment, but he lost the smile as soon as she looked back at him with guarded eyes, "I only wanted to reestablish whatever relationship he had with you, which he informed me there was none to begin with. But, after our talk last night," he clapped Benjamin on the shoulder good-naturedly, causing Ben to look at his friend with a raised brow and an impressed look because of his sincere words, "I learned he needs no woman with my help. At least for now. And I express my deepest apologies for insulting your honor and causing you any offense to yourself or family name."

Lillian absorbed his words quietly before shifting her feet, "It does explain the horrible handwriting mixed with the finely written signature that has seen well practice. I've had my suspicions on that matter when I first read it, but the words seemed too honestly written."

"You are a beautiful lady, Miss Lillian, but half of what I said- the crudely written areas- can be proved false because I haven't seen or met you until this day."

She looks at him with a less guarded look now, seeing he is a jovial person, meant no ill-will or offense, and he apologized himself, and complimented her appropriately- though he could have not complimented her. It made her uncomfortable that there are those rumors about her looks going around camp.

"Mr. Brewster your words in your letter were taken offensively and I was hurt that any man would have the braveries to write to me in that manner, even Captain Tallmadge, here," she shifts her eyes to Benjamin's who looks into hers unwittingly. "When I met Nathan Hale he spoke of you being a true gentleman and had high hopes of becoming a man like you. As you can imagine, reading that letter, it left me questioning myself, Mr. Hale, and the world."

"I can imagine, and it isn't a lovely sight to picture a lady as you so distressed. I'd rather not imagine it anymore, nor Caleb here," Benjamin says with understanding lacing his every word. "Nor any other man in this camp will harbor such thoughts of you in a crude manner. I will see to it you are respected in every way for the duration of your time here and future stays, even when you're not here, you have my word."

"Ben, even I have to admit that that is close to nigh impossible, men are—there are many in this camp who aren't 'good.' You can't change a man's ways and mind like that," Caleb inputs, editing his use of words in front of a woman.

"Then I can do my best to, and if you will allow me Miss Lillian, may I ask you give me another chance, and in proving to you that I am a moral gentleman," Ben looks back to her, who is looking at him and Caleb thoughtfully before bowing her head.

"Yes you may, Captain, and do your best to not fail me, you have a lot to amount up to in my eyes. And you, Mr. Brewster, I forgive you, maybe you can do the same as he. Now please excuse me a patient needs me urgently, they've been waiting long enough. I shall see you at the next meeting," she says before briskly walking away to the infirmary tent where there is loud coughing and spluttering, and the two men are left standing right where she left them, eyes following her every step, until she disappeared into the loud tent causing them to cringe.

" _Do your best to not fail me, you have a lot to amount up to.'_ Well, I failed that challenge just now, maybe she can curve it once for me, the beard makes everyone pity and have second-thoughts," Caleb says with a smirk, moving his hands in the shape of an hourglass in gesturing to her figure, ignoring the glare of his friend who soon smirks too.

"You can too be a gentleman, I've seen you sweep a woman off her feet with your good charms," Ben says.

"Yeah, but that's all an act, sorry to ruin that pleasant mirage in your head."

"Shut it Caleb," Ben shoves his friend in the side, shaking his head before making his way back to his tent with Caleb in tow. "She forgave you; you can go on your merry way now until I call for you about what the meeting decides."

"Wait, but she didn't forgive you, the man in question," Caleb said with almost too much enthusiasm and Ben stopped in his tracks.

"She did too!"

"No, you were told to not fail her and now that you gave her your 'honorary dashing Tallmadge word,' you have to prove you are who Nathan Hale told her, _a true gentleman who he hopes to be_. That didn't sound one bit like him, if anything he wanted to be like me, who doesn't?"

"Me, that is if I am to make myself blameless in Miss Lillian's eyes," Ben frowns as he walks into his tent and immediately looks into his mirror to straighten his necktie, waistcoat, and overcoat.

Caleb shuts the tent flap so they can speak more privately, "Let's ponder this though: if Lillian is George's adopted daughter, who is she? And why is she involving herself in man's work?"

"I don't know that yet," Ben said, folding papers and putting them in a satchel, yawning at the late hours of night and eyeing with distaste at the book Sackett had given him, but he picks it up with interest remembering why he is here.

"You are the spy leader—isn't it your duty to get to know her better? She is a part of our espionage is she not?" Caleb leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He stroked his beard, waiting for Ben to answer.

"In case you've forgotten, friend, we're in the midst of a war. I will learn why she is truly here soon enough if we are to- well, try to combine our chains."

"Is that an innuendo I just heard, Tallboy?"

"No!" Ben squints his eyes and throws a well of sealed ink at his friend who catches it with a grin.

"There's a time for war, a time for love—as your father preaches."

"No time for love." Ben shook his head resolutely, but a twinge of longing and regret crackled somewhere deep in his chest like the papers he sifted through.

"Not even a quick tryst in a haystack?"

Ben gave him a warning look, again.

"Right, right. You're a reverend's son, piously waiting for your soulmate."

"I'm a soldier at the moment, Caleb. Besides, it would be dangerous for a woman to be associated with me right now." Ben sat in thought for a moment before adding, "And Miss Lillian could be a dangerous woman with whom to associate." Ben breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to streamline his thoughts. His chest harbored a whirlwind of emotions—which was unlike him. He was typically focused, disciplined, and for some reason, that was difficult to do when a certain lovely face with knowing eyes kept sweeping through his thoughts like a highwayman by night. _'Miss Lillian—who are you? And what secrets do you harbor?'_

"I trust you on this, but just steer clear on that decision of combing our chains," Caleb says as he makes his way out to leave his friend to his paperwork, but no before setting the inkwell back on the desk, jokingly patting the top of it like a dog to make sure it stays in place.

"Believe me, I am. There are pros and cons to everything so far," Benjamin trails off into thought, and sighing with eyes shut on what will transpire tonight.

* * *

Clearly Washington was intensely keen on exploring the idea of a spy chain, otherwise, he wouldn't have completely ignored General Scott's request for a court-martial. Somewhere within Captain Benjamin Tallmadge, there was a heavy sigh of relief for the stay of court-martial, but also a storm of anxiety brewing for what was currently being discussed. He saw the merits of what Washington wanted, but as the sun continued to set and cast an orange-gold glow into the house, he was starting to realize just how futile the spy chain would be.

Trust.

That was the key to everything, and with the lack of confidence from not only from Scott, but also Sackett, and surprisingly from Washington – why wouldn't he tell him how Abe's name became known to him – this furtive notion of a spy chain was doomed. At least Lillian seemed to share the confidence he had, taking it upon herself to help win the war single-handedly. Christ on a pony, she doesn't need to end up like Nathan Hale, he grimaces at the thought of the young woman being sentenced to hanging- avoiding the thoughts of her being hung... or shot. She needs more people around her, _friends_. But trust is hard to come by for her, she stated.

Picking up the tin cup of coffee, fresher than yesterday's, he took a sip and bit back the same flicker of distaste from appearing on his face as the long-cold, bitter brew sunk down into his stomach. Scott and Sackett were currently engaged in a rather heated discussion once more about civilians within the chain and how they would be a liability if – 'when' Scott had emphasized – they were ever caught.

Lillian walked in mid-argument, hair in disarray falling loosely over her shoulders, and splatters of blood on her gloves and front of her dress, particularly the ends of her cloak where she wiped her fingers from dealing with a patient.

All three men turned to her with wide eyes in alarm.

"What?" She asked feeling their eyes on her as she stopped in front of the room they were in, and she took off her gloves carefully, and turning them inside out.

"You're bloody," Scott professed evidently.

"Bloody brilliant, yes, I saved the man's life," she says earning a quirk of a smile from Benjamin and Sackett, but Sackett cleared his throat.

"No one assaulted you then?" Scott breathed out, ignoring her slight wit.

"No sir, I would've screamed loud enough for the entire world to hear to come rescue me," she answers honestly.

"By your… tainted attire, it doesn't look like he survived the practice," Sackett slowly says trying to find the right words.

"Oh, this wasn't- it's not _all_ his blood. Some is from someone with a nose-bleed, and some is mine; a patient broke skin grabbing my arm when I pulled an old bullet out of his leg."

" _Who?!"_ Benjamin stood from his chair, asking in a loud, angered hiss, making Sackett choke on his walnuts, and from her claim. "He will be punished for striking you that goes against our conduct in this camp, especially during this time of war."

Lillian made a mental note to see when Sackett wasn't eating nuts as she looked at the Captain with new eyes, remembering his apology, and deciding to pretend 'his' letter never happened. His eyes are blue flames, filled with a determinedness and rage. Beautiful eyes, the kind one can get lost in, and she guessed she did.

She snapped out of her gazing, luckily, and fighting back a blush from not being the perfect and poised lady in this moment. The men didn't notice as they were too concerned about the blood on her still and the patient who 'striked' her.

"You knew what you were signing up for when you went to study this in college?" Sackett interestedly asked with a soft tone as he came over with a handkerchief to temporarily wrap around her arm.

"Yes sir, I read the fine print. Thank you, you don't have to I'm about to go to my quarters to put—"

"Just to give a break for our eyes, we do not wish to see this since we see it quite often already. On a lady it still isn't a convivial sight," he raises a brow like her father would. Oh her father, she remembered, who doesn't know, yet. At least since its winter she'll have her long-sleeved night gown on.

"Of course." She then looked towards the Captain, who was staring at her demandingly still, waiting for her response to his question on who striked her. "Thank you for your concern, Captain Tallmadge, but I can assure you all this is a regular happening with patients. I've had a patient cut my hand with my own knife before from the pain they felt during a surgery. I will be fine, it won't scar, and he didn't mean it," she says putting her hand on her now partly covered arm where there are the signs of fingernails dug into skin and little marks of blood in said imprints.

She saw him swallow thickly and his eyes grow dark, "There is such a thing as self-control, my lady. Even I would think twice before harming you if I were in such pain. It must've been excruciating for him then," Benjamin narrowed his eyes at the hand imprint on her lower arm with disgust.

"Yes it was. A rusty bullet wedged in between bone and muscle, I'm surprised the rust didn't kill him, yet. He may have some months left I'm afraid to say," she says feeling her chest constrict thinking of the injured patient, _Abbott_ , one of the soldiers who escorted her mother back home earlier in the year.

"Who is _he_?" Benjamin asked with finality in his tone, she having to blink to make sure this is still the young officer who blushed in her presence earlier during his apologies.

"He is someone else who doesn't deserve to be taken away from this world. Excuse me but I must clean myself up before our final meeting. Don't even bother taking it up with my father because I'll be telling him in due time," she bows her head and makes her way to the staircase, feeling all three pairs of eyes follow her up, and Scott going to the foot of the staircase to make sure she didn't trip and fall.

"She's mad," Scott exclaimed once he heard her door shut with a click.

 _Maddeningly confusing_ Ben can only think as he pulled his chair back with no care and sat in it, elbows on the table leaning his face into his hands. It turns out, his thought was spoken aloud causing Sackett to chuckle.

"I couldn't agree more, Captain, and we'll get to the bottom of it, why she is. But we must tread gently, the waters are deep."

Scott crosses back into the room, and returns to his seat with a dragged out sigh, "What are you talking about now?"

* * *

General Washington's abrupt entrance into the house was unexpected, but Ben supposed that he should have expected it. The three of them; Lillian returning in a clean, plain floral dress with covered arms taking her seat at her end spot at the table, reconvened for the presentation of debate results, stood up, waiting for their commander to acknowledge his readiness for their reports. As Washington removed his cloak with a slight flourished parting of his hands, one of his guards took it and quickly left.

Washington turned to face them, and quietly said, "General, have we come to a consensus?"

"Your Excellency," Scott began, "we believe that traditional reconnaissance is the way forward, for it depends on as little variable as possible who would be trusted to carry out and follow orders."

Ben saw Washington's sharp eyes flick over to him as Washington asked, "Captain, what say you?"

As much as he wanted to advocate Sackett's plans, he knew that it was impossible, and it all boiled down to what that one thought that had crossed his mind earlier yesterday. "I...I concur with the general, sir," he admitted. Not surprisingly, he heard Sackett 'hmph' in indignation. "The chain of agents," he continued, determined to ensure that Washington knew why he was saying what he was saying for he had a gut feeling that this would be his only opportunity to make his opinions known with little consequence. "It requires trust, and in that resource, I'm afraid that we find ourselves lacking."

"You're speaking now of your men on Long Island?" Washington asked.

"No sir, I'm speaking of the men in this room," he said, feeling bolder than he had been in a while. "And woman," he added looking towards Lillian who straightened in her chair.

His words were received with a shrewd look that briefly graced Washington's face, while Scott merely gave him a puzzled look. "Sir, for a conspiracy like this one to function, we would be needing to keep secrets from the enemy, from congress, even from our own army. This would require absolute trust amongst the secret-keepers and yet General Scott here does not trust me or my judgment. Mr. Sackett here mistrusts my experience, much as I mistrust his attitude for the lives of the agents in the field."

He paused for a moment before glancing up at Washington, hoping that his next words would not reinstate the court-martial that he was supposed to have been given. "Your daughter mistrusts my judgements and belief on combining our spy chains, and You, sir, you know the name Abraham Woodhull, and yet you will not disclose the source of your knowing. Apparently, you do not trust me either. Therefore, I cannot trust any success of a chain that we might build here today."

He saw Sackett shake his head negative, as if either agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment – he couldn't tell. However, it seemed that Washington valued Sackett's opinion quite highly for he said, "Then let me speak with Captain Tallmadge alone."

The room was silent after his words.

"Please accompany me, Captain."

As Washington left the room, with his guard somehow already at the entrance with his cloak ready, Ben followed the general out and into a lightly brewing snowstorm. He saw Washington pause on the ends of the steps and approached, half-surprised that as soon as he was paced to the side of the general, Washington resumed his walk. Side-by-side they traversed, through the fresh snow rapidly coating the ground, and though it was bitterly cold, Ben did not complain or allow it to show on his face.

"Mr. Sackett tells me that you prefer an alias for Woodhull," Washington said, casually strolling through the wind-blown snow storm as if it were nothing. "I must say, I concur."

"Forgive me sir," Ben hesitatingly said as Washington's words sunk in, "I thought we agreed that the best way for-"

"You were right," the general interrupted, "for this prescription, we require an amendment in the name of trust. Following our retreat at Brooklyn Heights, I tasked an agent to reconnoiter enemy encampments around Long Island and seek out contacts friendly to our side. His name was Nathan Hale and he was captured while he was on a mission for me. He was hanged as a spy."

Ben could only blink and stare at the general in shock, hearing the previously said words on Nathan Hale by Mr. Sackett said last night, as he tried to come to terms hearing it from his Commander as absolute confirmation. He wanted to say that it was false that Nathan was more careful with proclaiming his allegiance to the rebel cause than most people he knew, especially since the student body at Yale had been clearly split between the Whigs and Tories, but his words were stuck in the back of his throat.

"Fortunately," Washington continued, "his best friend at Yale, Benjamin Tallmadge, spoke often of his hometown friends; a whaler named Brewster, and a farmer named Woodhull. I wrote those three names down on a report – a report that I looked back on when an unsigned letter sent by an anonymous farmer proved correct."

In the brief moment of silence between the two, Ben simultaneously felt his heart lift in relief and drop at the same time, for he knew the dangers that were to come – Washington thought the chain of agents was feasible.

"Captain Hale died without any friends but my daughter to support him from afar. We cannot let that happen to Mr. Culpeper."

Benjamin remembers the crestfallen face of Lillian clearer now, as he looks in the glistening snow beneath his feet, and asks puzzled, "Mr. Culpeper?"

It was short-lived as Washington held up the boiled egg with [Mr. W] printed on it, saying, "We'll never use the name Woodhull ever again." The egg was crushed in Washington's gloved hands as the general gave him a nod of acknowledgment, turned and strode away. Ben stood there in the cold for a moment later, as an unbidden small smile worked its way up his lips. While he mourned the fact that Nathan had given his life in service to the freedom of the people here from British rule, he was glad that Washington was taking the safety and lives of his friends seriously.

 **A/N: Update, hooray! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! More insight into Lillian's character and what her role is in this war, as Ben noticed, a 'hunting' look in her eyes. She definitely has more reasons for being there other than getting intelligence for her father. And Caleb was introduced, finally! What a man he is. Stay tuned for more soon! Please review!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	13. Chapter 13: Combining Chains

**Chapter 13:**

Lillian in her thick and warm night dress and outer robe anglaise strode down the staircase slow and silently, hearing her mother and father's voices coming from his office talking in a hush.

Stopping against the wall of the door, not showing herself yet, to hear what they were talking about to make sure she wasn't disturbing anything personal in between them. The door wouldn't be wide open if it were so.

" _I'm not liking how she is acting lately, George. Why is she attending all these 'meetings?'" Martha asks him concernedly. "Ever since she's been introduced to that Nathan Hale fellow, she's been keeping secrets."_

 _"All women keep secrets, Martha just as every person does. Our daughter has that right to keep to herself and remain silent," George answered through a scratchy breath._

 _"I'm not going to start an argument. She also has a right to remain innocent in whatever 'assignment' or 'task' you're working on now," Martha rebuked, making George's eyes widen._

 _"And she is and will be, have you no trust in me that I am protecting her—Martha she is helping me voluntarily, me and her country-"_

 _"For what, George? What part of the war is she helping with? It surely isn't mending clothes and tending to the sick, and she certainly isn't entertaining men- being the good lady we raised her to be. I only came to tell you I do not wish to see our only daughter left hung!" Martha cried, accidentally knocking over an inkwell on George's desk at the footsteps entering the office._

"I won't be hung mother, why would you get that idea?" Lillian asks with a dejected swallow stepping into the office.

"How long were you out there?"

"Long enough. I apologize for eavesdropping, I was making sure I wasn't disturbing anything," she answered with an apologetic nod to the both of them who smile faintly, waving her apology off.

"For your question, I got that idea from hearing about the death of Mr. Hale, and how you corresponded with him before his untimely and cruel death. I worry for your safety my Lilly," Martha says walking over to her, pulling her into a hug with tears; unknowingly touching her hurt arm making Lillian twitch. The broken skin burned, but it would heal by next week completely.

"Her safety remains sound and always will be. Nathan kept her name to himself, and destroyed any evidence of letters written to him by her before I assigned him on his mission," George explained smoothly, standing from his desk to wrap his arms around both his wife and daughter.

Her heart plunged up to her throat making her cry a choked sob at the thought of his boyish, grinning face, blue eyes and blonde hair—a young handsome man, not even given the chance to live his life. His jokes he shared with only her, the laughs they shared when he visited only once—he was indeed a friend to her. Much like Patsy, her half-siister, was her friend. Friends and family have been taken away from her every time. _Why is this so?_ She always asks herself. _I am unlucky I suppose._

"Can we not speak of him, please?" Lillian asks, wiping her eyes. "I came to speak to you about my first day tending to the sick and wounded soldiers."

"Oh, yes! How was it?" Martha smiled encouragingly, eyes still red from crying and calming her breathing.

"Well, good I suppose. All will be well, many just have influenza symptoms, but one man had a rusty bullet in his leg, Abbott if you remember him. He may not have long to live, I'm afraid."

"A fine soldier," George looked down at his feet, but in the process of looking down he caught sight of his daughter's arm, some fabric protruding from under her nightdress at her lower right arm. "Lilian, what's this?"

"That is what I came to tell you," she pauses as her father took her arm, pushed back her sleeve revealing a clean bandage, but he began to unwrap it. "You know how patients accidentally harm their caretaker—"

"Lillian Washington!" Martha gasped at the fingernail marks.

"Who did this?" Her father hisses under his breath, reminding her of Captain Tallmadge's reaction earlier on in the night.

"It was accident, and is common for nurses and doctors to be hurt by their patient if they are in pain and have no other bedside assistance. It's why birthing mothers need a hand to squeeze instead of attacking the doctor. Abbott did this when I was removing the bullet," Lillian said the last sentence quietly, ready to defend the man who never meant to harm her.

"It looks like its healing fine. My darling," Martha says taking her arm out of her father's hands and placing a kiss on it as one would a child who got a scrape.

"You can't be alright with this Martha! We were just discussing her safety and keeping her from harm," George glanced at his wife stunned before turning back to the young lady in front of him. "There is self-control. Something my men have been told time and time again to inherit if they wish to remain in this army," her angrily explained, making Lillian fear the worst.

"You cannot exile Abbott father, he escorted mother home safely, and he has been honorable—"

"An honorable man would think twice before harming a woman, nevertheless my _daughter_!" George raised his voice, causing Lillian to look away from his dilated, stormy eyes, like two whirlwinds. What scared her most was that her mind thought back to Benjamin Tallmadge once more, he said those exact words almost: " _There is such a thing as self-control, my lady. Even I would think twice before harming you if I were in such pain…"_

"It is not worth kicking him out, because of the rust he has been diagnosed weeks to two months to live. At least give him that, then he won't be around anymore," Lillian whispered with a shaking breath, hardly believing they ended up talking about this.

"I am not doing it out of cruelty or with a cold heart. It is chain of command, and if laws are broken they will not go unpunished. You won your case, he will be kept out of the infantry. I can presume this means he is bedridden?"

Lillian swallowed again, "Yes."

"Then that is where he shall remain. As for you future check-ups and healing duties, you will have Derik by your side," he informed her protectively.

"Yes sir, yes father," she returned his hug and kissed his cheek, and waited for him to return it before she took the bandage out of his hand and left the room without another sound, too busy thinking how much her father is different now, and what kind of world this is turning to be. Nothing goes unpunished. How long has this been happening? She finds out the next morning when Maria and her mother enter her bedroom to educate her on what she has been sheltered from all her life. Law is strictly enforced; nothing goes unpunished even the smallest item.

It frightened her, but she felt safe. The law of the land has done this country well this far, and prayers to above that it will continue to prosper if not greater.

This also made her ponder further on why she is here, and these new facts only gave her more guarantee it is to be done if she wishes to avenge what was taken from her.

* * *

Lillian stands in the dining room with her nurse tools sprawled across the table, in the process of cleaning each of them individually and organizing them in their case. So engulfed in her cleaning, and humming a catchy spring-time tune, she didn't hear the sound of boots cross into the foyer, and the man stood looking at her, waiting for reaction.

He cleared his throat, and she jumped back grabbing her chest, instantly calming that it is Benjamin Tallmadge standing perfectly still as a tin soldier would, removing his cavalry helmet that looked very gallant and dashingly good-looking. All women have a fancy for men in helmet or any hats for some odd reason.

"I'm sorry for startling you Miss Lillian, that wasn't my intention to," he began, now holding his helmet under his arm and shifting his feet causing the sheathed sword at his side to wobble.

"No, it's fine! I apologize for not paying attention and acknowledging you sooner," she genuinely stated as she grabbed a napkin to wipe her soapy hands.

Ben's brow furrowed, and was about to retort it wasn't her fault she wasn't paying attention, but she quickly asked him why he was here.

"I came to speak to you on matters of our successful notion of a spy ring and about your reason for being here," Benjamin asked with clear words, refreshed from a good night's sleep as he holds his helmet resolutely.

She raises an eyebrow, "That is very bold of you to come forth and ask me, without being called on as well. Who let you in?"

"Mr. Sackett, and I—apologize for the inconvenience and no warning of my arrival. I'm not knowledgeable in that area when meeting with women," Ben stumbled on his words suddenly flustered at her assertion.

"Clearly," she mumbled before shaking her head and staring at him enquiringly. "I apologize again, I didn't mean for that to sound disdainful in any way—"

"No! It's alright, I was wrong for thinking I could just show up to speak with you," He explained himself.

"No it isn't alright. I haven't been myself of late, I confess. I didn't get much sleep last night after I told my father and mother on the abrasion I received, and I haven't… socialized with men for some time. I guess you and I are in the same boat then," she smiled kindly, surprised it isn't forced this time. This is her warming up to him, a little, and she felt warm when he returned her smile agreeably.

"You have every right to seek council with me, any soldier, because that is what I am here for alongside my mother. To keep up morale of the soldiers; amongst other things."

"And what are those other things, my lady?" He probed politely, holding back all the questions he has piling up in his mind to the brim, particularly what her father's response to her wound was which will always anger him that doctors can go through such risk.

She blinked, "I thought I told you already, Captain Tallmadge, at our meeting. I'm here to provide intelligence for my father and the cause when I can as I and my mother continue to be a 'symbol for the patriot cause' as they call it. To his and my belief, my father that is, no one would suspect Gen. Washington's daughter in the midst of it."

He nods his head, stepping further into the empty dining room, eyeing her and the side table at the once littered maps and papers into neat stacks and piles.

"Well, yes I knew that much already. I mean to ask, why are you truly doing this—other than feeling an over-zealous duty to your country," Ben quickly added as she interrupted, and she remained silent for some minutes.

"Captain-"

"I'm sorry but I must correct you, I've been promoted to Major and Head of Intelligence just this morning," he confessed.

She blinked before beaming, "Congratulations, Major that is wonderful news! But since—this means General Scott…" she trailed off.

"He was sent to the front lines. I replaced him as Head of Intelligence. He took it well and with good heart as a fine soldier and general should," Benjamin announced and relishing in the new title, a title he was just given this morning and a woman was already spilling it from her sweet lips.

"But returning back to my question, why are you _truly_ here?"

She was taken aback by his two-sided tone, both kind and wanting to know, the other irritated and demanding, "My business is my own why I am _truly_ here. What can make you ask such a silly question? Maybe I have no other true reasoning why I'm here!"

"My question is nothing silly, it is serious in all shape and form- I am being serious and have every right to be if it involves our possible chance of forming this successful spy ring," His young northern accent thickened as he spoke, but he didn't notice when Lillian's composure fell and her eyes froze with memory, having remembered saying similar words herself when she was little—" _War is nothing silly. It's serious no matter how it's talked about."_

"I beg your pardon, my lady?" Ben asked her markedly, and she closed her mouth realizing she repeated her memory aloud.

"Nothing, I just remembered someone's wise words to me," she simply said.

"And they are wise," he nodded tolerantly and continues to speak, this time soother because he last minute realized he was getting to have a raised tone. "So you understand my intentions now? I would like to be ahead of the game and to get all necessary information together and your opinion on the combining of our agents. I have enough on my plate as it is."

"Ah, it is always good to be ahead of the game," she faces away from him and goes to look out the frozen window. "I have a lot on my plate too; I'm not just the Jewel of Virginia or 'Virginia Gold' as I overheard your friend Caleb say, that's a new one, clever. The people who started those nicknames claimed I have no worries or stress and sitting on a glass throne."

She looks back at him to see him focused on her solely, they are the only two in the dining room after all, "That is one of my favorite phrases, 'being ahead of the game,' I have many of those as I have many reasons to be who I am and be here today," I stare at him, and his gaze drops, but briefly. He is rather well at maintaining an unreadable face talking to someone.

"I am not the stereotypical woman, upper-class aristocrat with the glass slipper of society at my feet. You know my name by gossip and rumor and the essay, but not my story. You've heard what I've done, but not what I've been through. What I've been through was rough and rocky, and dark—tis' why I have a mind to be careful of trust and not make a lot of friends, if not any."

"Mis- my lady," Ben took long steps to the table, setting his helmet down. "I'm aware everyone has a story, especially you. I held no pre-judgement on your seeable good character. You do not have to tell me-"

She laughed lightly, "But you asked! And I'm getting there as to why I'm here. Perhaps when I'm done I can listen to your reason for being here. We do wish to combine our chains and ways for attainting this intel, do we not?"

He blinked astonished, not expecting her declaration at all, "Yes of course. A far-more personal reason, I suppose? For you being here?"

She exhaled, tearing away from his eyes to place her nurse tools in their respective compartments in their case, "Yes. My father was killed in battle when I was six, or so I thought, and my mother died of tuberculosis when I was eleven. The day after she passed I was taken in by my new family, the Washington's. My real parents were friends with George and Martha, very close and considered as family, but I have no memory of ever visiting them before. Since I was so young when all this happened, I didn't grieve until I was older, right around when I began college unfortunately."

"Unfortunately?"

"I was easily distracted by my own emotions- depression mostly. But why I became a nurse was to find cures, to save other children's mother's, father's, caretakers— I also wanted to fill that gap of guilt for my mother, if only I was older with the knowledge of healing and spoke up. They bloodlet her too much," she said quietly and all casually, having no reason to cry anymore.

Benjamin nodded his head, smiling faintly now knowing why she had a fascination for blood, well fascination for blood sounds violent and psychopathic, and she is neither of those as far as he is concerned and can see. Lillian didn't realize they sat down and are now sitting across from each other.

"You are passionate for it, my lady. A strong passion for your work is an admirable ethic to have, every working person should attain that strong of a passion. It has carried you this far," he told her gently with heart, taking his words in a slow stride.

"Thanks," she cracks a smile and he bows his head. "It makes me happy which is all I can ask for."

"Indeed. What you said about your father- you _thought_ he was killed in battle?" He asked the question that was plaguing his mind since she first opened up to him completely and vulnerably on her thoughts. Did she know she was trusting him this much as to tell him all this? Her life story? _Maddeningly confusing_ still. _Maybe this is a chance she is giving me to redeem myself as a gentleman_.

"It was a cover up, a lie to keep me unknowing of the horrible truth. He was killed by a man purposely, on his side of the field according to my father, by someone they both know. That is why I am here; I am searching for him to seek justice on his personal vendetta against my family name- Kennedy. My real name is Lillian Kennedy, Major, you should know that. My British contact refers to me by that name so I don't use Washington."

His mind was racing with thoughts and unthinking at the same time, stunned speechless at all she was telling him. She definitely is no 'stereotypical woman' as she phrased it. And the British contact, Baker is the name Sackett stated yesterday when he was boiling the encrypted egg, he'll have to ask about him some other time.

"Then you came to the right place, and opened up to the right person that will help in every way he can," his hand made reach for her white gloved hand for comfort and reassurance, as both of their hands were on the table, but he thought better of it. She was already comforted plenty and reassured, she is ready to act. She is strong and ready. Instead, he reached for his inside coat pocket and pulled out the crumpled up letter Caleb sent her pretending to be him, and he began smoothing it out.

She is watching him closely and curiously, in his attempt at rubbing the letter of its creases; holding her breath, and keeping her blood from boiling.

"Starting now," Benjamin began, peering up at her to gauge her reaction as he finishes flattening the letter as best as he could. "I think it is time we start over, fresh from any mistrusts and dents in the relationship we had before, or had begun to commence down the wrong path. If you wish to, my lady, I'd like to find cause for considering you a friend as we work effortlessly together to win this war and justice for yourself and Kennedy name. What say you?"

After glancing down at the infamous disrespectful letter resting under his hand, and meeting his unpretentious blue-eyed gaze betraying no hint of deception, determined jawline relaxed and firm, she nodded her head gently, and so did her positive mind and heart; having absorbed every word he said to her and remembered everything she had said.

"I say yes. Yes, Major Tallmadge. I look forward to working with you and your agents," she answered finely, feeling the weight on her shoulders lift and a knot in her chest undo itself, then finding herself in surprise and a newfound respect at the man across from her, who raised the letter, and set it to flame above the candle. Letting it burn, disintegrate out of existence.

"As do I."

After the paper finished burning, no traces but little black ashes on the surface top, he stood up from his chair, grabbed his bronze and blue helmet, bowed, and thanked her for her time.

She stopped him before he left, however, "Major, what is your true reason for being here?"

He looked at her with a thoughtful smile, "Excellent question."

And he left just as he came; quietly, and with purpose in his walk.

Lillian sat there, captivated even after he left, partly bothered that he used her father's words that only work with him, but that was a clever remark. Maria was standing in front of her as she was looking the way the Major left possibly into another office in the house because the front door neither opened or shut.

"I'd say he left a great impression on you, that Tallmadge," Maria said wiping the burned paper pieces into her hand and go to dispose of them. "I told you he is a gentleman."

"Yes, yes he is," Lillian smiles. "And a commendable soldier first."

* * *

"And that is what our spy ring is intended to do, be vastly effective of any intelligence-gathering operation on either side," Sackett finished his speech on the newly named Culper Spy Ring. Currently, George Washington was standing with his left arm crooked in front of him respectably, and his right folded behind his back, listening and eyeing intently at the other people in the room: Major Tallmadge, Lieutenant Brewster, and his daughter Lillian.

"With Major Tallmadge being the handler-"

"Major?" Brewster questioned. "I thought he was Captain?"

"Promotion," Washington simply answered as Caleb stifled the laughter that threatened to escape his lips at just how pale and surprised Ben looked. He had finally mastered his own shock, enough that a part of him accepted the fact that a woman is becoming involved in this, General Washington's daughter which doesn't seem safe in his opinion. As far as he knew, he had no children yet, but he knew if there ever came a day he had a daughter- he would not let her become involved in this dangerous espionage. Despite his sudden burning desire to question Miss Lillian on what her part is in this, he reined it in – thinking Benjamin would have found out something by now considering the trusting looks they give each other. _Did she forgive him?_

"As I was saying, the Major being the handler as for his chain, and Miss Lillian the handler of hers, but the Major will be receiving her reports from her agents as the result. Lieutenant Brewster may be expected to act as a courier on either side if needed, but as a truth we are one chain."

George turned to his daughter, "Major Tallmadge is my new Head of Intelligence, and I expect you to work with him, Lieutenant Brewster here, and Mr. Sackett. In exchange for your cooperation, we will track down the man you are looking for, as am I, if I may say, as we gather intelligence," the general continued.

"Hmph," the elder Sackett said, though it sounded more noise than a form of protest. However, it was enough to catch Washington's attention, and while Caleb had never seen a civilian interrupt their general before, it seemed Sackett was familiar with it. "Perhaps I should take charge of this 'tracking down' for her needs while the Major and my lady here when she returns to her place of residency, concentrates on forming tighter chains and recruitment of other agents in the chain?"

Caleb wasn't sure if he saw what looked like light in Ben's eyes die slightly as soon as Sackett had finished his suggestion. He smiled to himself, assuming that he had seen correctly – Ben was politely curious about the Virginia Jewel Miss Lillian, and it was the first time he had seen his best friend react that way to women. There was much to be said and done by him to ensure that that curiosity was nourished and grown from the seedling.

"Then there we have it. On this day we commence the Culper Ring, and with Providence's guidance and strength, we will endure what is to come," George finished with a pleased smile, but seemingly keeping any sort of inflection or emotion from the tone of his voice.

"Amen," Caleb smirked, putting his hat back on his head. "Let's get to it."

 **A/N: And the Culper Ring has begun! :) This was a nice buffer transition into the future action that will take place. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well, and thank you all for following and favoriting! The next chapter will be long, and it's not even half way done yet. It should be up by next week. Thanks again for reading!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	14. Chapter 14: Mercy,Moment,Murder,Measure

**Chapter 14:**

Hot tea pouring into a glass teacup wakes Lillian up from her moments sleep, sitting up in the chair across from her mother, and her father on the end of the table. She blinks having caught a ray of sunlight in her eye and the shiny fabric of her satin organza dress. It felt like she was going to a ball, but in reality, no.

She is dressing the part as the Commanding General's daughter, an upper class lady, and a lady of the Patriot cause. Since she is no longer at home, which is located in the middle of nowhere, every day nowadays is considered a ball or event.

"Glad I woke you up," Maria says with a sweet smile.

"Thank you Maria," Lillian returns the smile, feeling the steam hit her face as she goes to pick up the teacup and take a sip in attempts to get rid of the chills on her arm from the draft coming up through the wooden floorboards.

"Will you be tending to the sick today?" Her mother asks with a polite yawn, covering her mouth, before lifting a fork to eat some eggs.

She felt her father's eyes peer over at her pointedly over the book he was reading. He had breakfast pushed to the side in front of him and instead a few reports in a stack waiting to be read.

"No I can't because Derik, my appointed guardian," Lilly looks at her father who nods his head. "Is out with the soldiers today, helping them with their horses. Without a guardian I can't go anywhere today, but it's not all bad. We can have a nice family day all together."

"Your brother and his wife aren't here," George says quietly with his breathy tone.

"A day all together we'll have then," Lillian smiles before taking another sip of tea, the eggs leaving dryness in her throat from the salt on them.

"But we're not all together," Martha comments.

"A day, together," Lilly says instead, losing her smile.

"Only this morning though, I'm afraid to say. I'll be in my office or outside directing an army," George says folding his book shut and begins sifting through reports.

"Then together is what we'll be, for now," Lilly sighs, leaving the frustration out of it because her once long statement turned to really only one word. "Let's enjoy our morning, _together_ , while we can."

Martha shakes her head looking at her daughter, "And you'll just sit in here the rest of the day while men are out there freezing and dying form illness."

"They aren't freezing, Martha," George utters.

"Oh? Have you been outside lately? No, because you have your nose stuck in a book and papers in the warmth of a house. Your men are freezing, especially the ones who haven't been inside in months. They should take turns," Martha rebukes, making her case clear much to Lillian's amusement.

"I get my fair share alright. I'll be out there until nightfall starting at noon," George ends the small dispute.

"A shame you don't have anyone else to be a guardian whilst you went to do your job," Martha asks her daughter, taking the whole teapot from Maria's hands and pouring her cup up to the brim with it. "Get me some more sugar, please."

"They'll be alright, only influenza symptoms as I told you the other night, and bad hygiene," Lillian mumbles an apology when her mother grimaced at that assertion. "Except for one patient."

The room fell more silent than it was before, and it lasted several moments.

"Abbot is sentenced anyway. I spoke with him and he accepted those terms rather well," George breaks the silent with this admission making Lillian blink back tears. "He understood what he had done was wrong and unnecessary."

"That wasn't so wise, father. I was going to not tell him the whole truth because sometimes it's better to not know than to know," Lilly picks up her lap-napkin and tosses it on the table through with breakfast.

"I'm sorry," her father sat the papers down and rubbed his eyes for a split second. "But you know good and well the rules of war, and I must abide to them."

"And you should, but don't get those rules mixed up with mine. Rules of life, health, and death," Lillian says feeling her nurse talk spill out of her and her composure fall making her father bite his lip and blink away his discomposure.

"I follow those as well-" he gets cuts off.

"General," a guardsman walks into the room with his rifle propped on his shoulder, and gave a book to him swiftly before walking out the room and returning back to his post outside the front door.

"Ah, your homework," George slides over the book Lillian recognized Mr. Sackett gave to Benjamin to 'commit to memory.' "Major Tallmadge left a note for you."

"He committed this to memory rather quickly," Lillian said with wide eyes flipping through the book with only ten or so pages. Names and numbers were in tiny font front to back on every square inch: _Gen. George Washington…. 711_

"George," Martha tries to get her husband's attention, until he finally hums back. "Why don't this 'Tallmadge' man be her guardian for the day?"

Lillian rolled her eyes before slanting them at her mother who is smiling suspiciously.

"Excellent question," George looked up from the papers returning the smile before standing from the table with papers and book in hand, leaving the room.

Martha shakes her head at Lillian from across the table.

"Well, he answered your question. Just not what you were expecting," Lilly says closing the book and setting it in her lap, hands on the ends of it as if securing it with her life.

"I'm sorry you can't leave the house, and go see to all of them. Your father is stressed, worried, and anxious-"

"I know he never meant any harm with his words, never," Lillian says. "There's always tomorrow. If the men survived this far without me here they'll be fine another day."

The silence that followed was calming, Maria picked up the plates and teacups to go wash, and the two Washington women sat there until Lilly made to stand up.

"I'll go do my homework then," She says.

"That's my girl."

* * *

When Lillian made it to her room, and shut the door behind her, she quickly folded open the note that was sticking out in between the middle of the book, and began to read:

 _Miss Lillian Washington,_

 _In here you will find all of the codes which will be used in our spycraft- this includes any further communications we will have with each other, excluding letters which have no intelligence report, of course. You are not on this list of contacts due to relative safety for your overall person and identity. This was completed under orders of your father as well as you not being on the list, which was a wise decision to make. This was done in case our list of codes were discovered, and you wouldn't be risked death or tried for treason. You are a private contact and as a whole, you are to be kept the most secret about out of us all. I wish you the best in committing many of these key words to memory, but I recommend, what I have done, is transcribe it separately and keep hidden should the need to use it comes up._

 _-Major Benjamin Tallmadge_

She smiles to herself at his well explained letter, and understanding the fact she wasn't included in the list. Her chest seemed to de-constrict at the thought of being kept safer than she thought she'd be. She still felt an overwhelming since of security.

And with this good feeling, she found an extra journal in her nurse case used for taking notes on patients, and began transcribing.

* * *

"Lillian, a Mr. Brewster is here to see you," Maria walks into the room with her blue head wrap glowing in the dark candlelit room of her friend, who is sitting at her small desk copying words from a book into another worn journal.

Lillian looks up from her work, still in her day clothes, and gasps at the dark window, "It's night! What does he want?"

"That he didn't say but he assured me it is all in good will and wishes to apologize to you."

 _Apologize? Didn't he already—oh_.

"I'm coming," she says scribbling the last five people and code words down and their matching numbers before taking the original book with her and following Maria out the room and down the stairs to Caleb in his wide brimmed hat leaning against the wall regularly, as if he's been here a dozen times all day. A very easy-going and laid-back man is what he is, and Lilly found she liked that about him; almost an attractive quality for a man to have to feel inclined to be comfortable anywhere. He has a warm welcoming presence despite his rough outlook and gruff scraggly black beard.

The beard, she was afraid to say, ruined it for her, but it didn't change the fact it looked well on him. She prefers her men clean-shaven.

"Miss Washington, lovely seeing you," Caleb smiles cheekily with his thick northern accent, and stands up from the wall and approaches her as she steps off the last step. "Sorry for being late, but I need this for Ben to finish transcribing."

Caleb paused looking over Lillian's shoulder. She blinked twice before turning around as well to see Maria, who was standing at the foot of the staircase in earshot.

"You're excused Maria," Lillian nods in gesture 'it's alright,' and Maria smiles before leaving the room altogether.

"What did he have to transcribe? I just finished mine it was a mess to read in this tiny script," she tells the bearded man still quietly for the secrecy of the matter and she was tired.

"He needs some words out of it he didn't get to finish writing. He's writing another book for our Samuel Culpeper to keep on his person, and that book is about to be finished tonight so I can leave at midnight and travel across the sound to Setauket to greet him kindly tomorrow morning," Caleb finished with a smirk, taking the book Lillian gave to him during the conversation.

"Wait. Setauket?" Lillian's senses perk up. "Setauket, Long Island?"

"Yeah, the one and only. The place where the black petticoat hangs and our two spies operate."

Lillian exhales a breath in amazement, "Unbelievable, why didn't we discuss this."

"Discuss what?" Caleb's tone drops to a serious level, which would've scared Lillian to no end if she never met him before.

"My contact is stationed there, my _British_ contact," she says making the man let out a low whistle. "We have three spies there!"

"Do you have any more important secrets I need to know?" he asks with a sarcastic smile. "Because that is information I never knew, and if I don't know it Benny-boy doesn't know it. If he doesn't know it then we are all screwed. This is why I don't agree with women helping in man's work."

Lillian crosses her arms in front of her with a raised brow, "Is this what it is to you? Man's work? No, this is America's work. If we want to win our rightful freedom all of us should collaborate."

"And you are right, _Princess_ ," Caleb continues a sarcastic smile. "But its dangerous work, I've already risked my hide more than five times! The courier job isn't all easy as you think it is. Since it's dangerous you could've made it more dangerous if you didn't just tell me of your Redcoat friend, and he's in my hometown operating under our noses!"

"You don't think I know that it's dangerous? I've been told only eight-thousand times by just my father. I was never given the chance to explain my contact's details more, Sackett always blew it off or interrupted me, and as for Ben it never came up when we talked—I can't just throw in there 'oh my contact is in Setauket by the way, where our two spies are! And I don't know which side he is truly on.' In fact you both never told me you had two spies in the same location either! Isn't that important for me and my chain's safety!?"

He nods his head, losing his smirk. "So then we're both wrong, I accept that. But I don't accept half-ass said information. Start saying what's on your mind more and keep everything that's prancing around in there in the front of your mind—" Caleb's angered face dropped to one of apology and regret. "Miss—shit. Miss Washington I'm sorry-"

"No it's fine you have every right to be."

"No I don't. I'm sorry. This isn't a good start to becoming friends," he says placing his hand on her shoulder in attempts to being reassuring. He was apologizing, but she felt awkward feeling his hand on her shoulder or upper arm.

Her surprised glance at his hand there made him drop it quickly as if it was never there.

"Sorry about that too. I'll speak up to you more- more than I just did- now I know I'm allowed to speak this much to you and in such manner without being slapped."

She held back a little laugh that tried to escape as the corners of her mouth twitched a little, "Not yet anyways."

"Oh you do have a sense of humor!" He exclaimed with a toothy grin.

"Well, you'd be the first to say that. Look, I'll be sure to speak up much sooner next time, and just to add, personally, I don't like too much cursing…"

"I'll remember that," he smiles kindly and apologetically.

She nods her head sweetly, as they stand in a moment of silence, before she asks remembering him saying, "You want to be friends with me?"

"We're in this together aren't we? Being strangers or _acquaintances_ won't make things easier. And since this whole ring requires trust, being friends will allow true trust."

She smiles, "It does require trust. So far I haven't doubted any of you for a second which is rather good for me."

"I know," He nods his head. "I was told trust is hard to come by for you. It is for me too. Everyone nowadays, everyone is betraying each other."

"Not everyone," she exclaims with such an honest face making Caleb close his mouth at what he was about to say.

"Sorry your British friend betrayed you," Caleb said putting the book in his coat pocket before taking out another journal to hand to her.

"He didn't… I don't know what he did to me, alright? All I know is he is still writing me and helping us. One day I'll get to the bottom of it," she says taking the book from him with an interested face. "He'll always be my friend though," she added under her breath.

"Maybe I will get to the bottom of it tomorrow morning if I come across him. I'll rough him up a little-"

"Don't rough him up! In fact no, don't find him at all, don't ask anyone for him. Just get in there and get out we'll have more than one occasion to meet him again," she says with a huff opening the book. "What is this?"

"We'll? Miss there is no way I'm smuggling you in to that British occupied town one day," he states gravely with a troubled face.

"Who says you will? Who says I'll be smuggled in? I have my own plans for that—I don't know the whole plan yet but I will let you and everyone else know when I decide, he is a part of my chain—actually our whole chain, now. We're combined. Now answer my last question, what is this?"

Accepting her argument, for now, he answered her question, "That is a personal Bible Benny-boy made for you, guessed which words you'd use most and put them in code. He added some Latin in the back in case you prefer it, for old times' sake." Caleb grinned lopsidedly and winked making Lillian feel a blush creep on the back of her neck. Good thing it was dark outside and only candles were inside, he couldn't see her blush.

"I only know Latin medical terminology, and some regular common phrases and words. How thoughtful though, I give him my thanks."

"I'll let him know!" He begins to step back toward the door, but halts before asking, "What is your British boy's name by the way? We should know, especially since we're all in this together."

"Albert Baker," she answers gently and quietly, looking around making sure no one was inside. Her father and his guardsmen were outside for some important reason; probably in a tent with the other officers in a meeting.

"Albert-Baker-Culpeper. I can remember that," he jokes making her giggle at the rhyme he tried coming up with on his way out the door.

"Stay safe, Mr. Brewster," Lillian calls after him concernedly, feeling the intensity of his mission hit her fully.

"Always," he smiles holding his head in the door. "Have a good night now Lil' Washington."

She blinked at his endearment before breaking out into a smile and hushed laughter. _How bold of him._ After he shut the door, Lillian felt the nerves prick her skin and worry gnaw at her stomach, or was it her corset she's been in since dawn?

"Maria! Come help me out of this," she called as she went up the stairs with the new book tucked under her arm, anxious to read what words Benjamin thought she'd use most. But her eyelids are drooping, knowing she'll have to wait until morning to read it.

* * *

"Hey Woody," Caleb casually said as he rocked back and forth in the quite comfortable rocking chair, trying his damnest not to laugh at the reaction that Abe displayed upon waking up and seeing him. "You got any breakfast here?"

"You bastard!" Abe hissed after half rolling and jumping out of bed like a cat splashed with hot water, throwing a brush at him, to which he tried to dodge but only managed to cover his face from the attack. "You bastard! What are you doing here?! This is my home!"

"Aye," he agreed, looking around, admiring all the quaint and simple looks that decorated the ceiling and walls. "And a fine little home it is, albeit a bit lonely."

"You are aware," Abe continued to angrily whisper, "that the soldier quartered here will be back soon!"

Caleb made a noise of agreement before saying, "Better eat quick then." He got up and with a smile, left the room, making his way down the stairs to the first floor. Despite the hilarity of just how badly Abe had reacted, it was the fact that it had been a little too easy to infiltrate Abe's house and sit so close to him without Abe knowing it instantly.

Despite the protection that he was about to give Abe with the object in his coat's pocket, he was still worried. Ever since Lillian informed him of her British contact, Albert Baker, being stationed in this small hometown of his, he felt worry crawl inside of him like bugs in a dead lobster back carcass… Or just a regular lobster carcass. Of course he told Ben, before he left last night. He had heard Ben quietly confer with the elder Sackett last night on how best to ensure that the men around the camp were more alert to whoever traveled through, and if there were any Britain's around, lone riders, to not shoot at them in case it is this _Baker._

Clearly Gen. Washington and his daughter trust him in some aspect, different albeit.

Caleb knew that Ben wanted to ensure that Abe was protected, and with what Lillian had said to not ask about Baker or to find him, it was quite a good thing that the courier duties had fallen to him. He'll follow orders through and through, until something isn't right in his eyes.

Too much protective measures would stifle Abe's ability to spy and the fact there was a silent worker in his area wearing a redcoat and probably killing someone this moment, Abe can't risk knowing this. Baker gets his information, and Abe gets his in New York—they operate separately. And who knows, Baker may not be all he appears to be. He could be a double-agent, which was what Sackett expressed his concerns about which lead their small meet to a close until morning where Lillian, Sackett, and Ben will discuss further.

Still...to have gotten this close to Abe while he was sleeping...

Spotting a piece of biscuit that didn't look as dry or hard as the rations they had at camp, he sat himself at the dining table and picked it up. Biting into it, he savored the day-old stale taste, letting it melt in his mouth before chewing and swallowing it. It felt like ages since he had eaten anything so fresh.

"Fine silver," he said, as a very beautiful spoon with an intricately designed handle caught his eye, just as he heard the clatter of footsteps on the stairs descend. He picked the piece up, admiring it as he chewed on the biscuit. Knowing that Abe was probably short on silver, he suggested, "I could fetch a good price across the sound if you'd like."

Abe immediately snatched the spoon out of his hand and slammed it into the case that it had been in before closing said case. "We're supposed to meet at the cove!"

"You're supposed to hang a petticoat," he pointed out, popping another piece of the biscuit into his mouth.

"When I'm ready with the intelligence! That was the plan!"

"When you're ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in the dining table's chair. "It's been two months since you passed a message about sauerkrauts."

Exasperated and annoyed, he saw Abe fling out his arms as he said, "I've been having trouble getting into the city without raising suspicions, all right? It's not as easy for me as you think."

As Abe peered out of the window, Caleb mentally sighed. "No one thinks it's easy, but this is more than just about you." He tossed the last of the biscuit into his mouth as Abe turned back around and reached into his coat's pockets to pull out the secret notebook he had been tasked to carry and defend with his life. Dropping it on the other side of the table, he watched as Abe walked over and picked it up.

"What's this?" Abe asked.

"That, is your new Bible," he answered, watching his friend open the notebook up. "It's a code dictionary to ensure that anything that you write cannot be read by the enemy, in case of intercept. Each word has its own number. Ben chose the words that we thought you'd use most." Getting up, he strode over to where Abe was and pointing to the numbers that were on the current page, saying, "Now look, 722, that's you. 721, that's Benny-boy. 725, yours truly."

"Wait, hang on a second," Abe said, "722, that says 'Samuel Culper'."

"Culpeper," he clarified, careful to keep the surprise from his face. During the initial interview that Washington had conducted, the younger Sackett had mentioned 'Culper Spy Ring' in association to what was happening now – the formation of a chain of agents. While nothing had been said of the pronunciation of 'Culper' versus what Washington had designated as Abe's alias surname, 'Culpeper', Caleb had a feeling that what Abe had stated just now was not entirely coincidence.

"That's your alias, alright?" he continued, pushing aside the thought, knowing that his friend's confusion needed to be assuaged. "It's the only name we use for you back at headquarters. Woodhull does not exist."

"Culpeper," Abe tested out after a few moments of silence. The variations that followed eventually rolled into the beginnings of a familiar children's rhyme. "I hate it."

"Well, Washington picked that one, and Ben picked Samuel, on the account of his brother."

His statement had the desired effect as Abe stuttered for a moment, "W-Washington? Ge-General Washington?"

"That's right," he nodded, "old 711 himself. In speaking of Washington, Washington's _daughter_ , Lillian Washington herself, is involved with her own chain."

Abe's eyes widened, "Wait, he has children?"

"Long story, but we all work together," Caleb smirked at his friend's agape mouth. " _Kennedy_ is her alias from what Ben told me, and it is her former last name because she was adopted. She is never to be mentioned, do you understand that? If information needs to get to her by some odd reason, it'll go to her father or me than to her. She'll be mostly communicating with Ben and I on her wing, so really you have no meaning to affiliate with her."

Abe seemed to accept the explanation and as he sat down at the table, murmuring to himself, he finally said, "I'm not going to remember all of this."

Caleb grinned; leave it to Abe to turn a simple thing into something that did not need to be complex. Leaning in, he gave his friend a pat on the side of his arm, saying, "That's why you keep the book – hidden. Now when can I tell them you're heading back to British headquarters?"

"I don't know," Abe said after a moment as he closed the notebook and bound it back up in the leather ties.

"Why don't you take Anna with you to get past the checkpoint-"

"No!" Abe vehemently said, dropping the notebook back on the table as he swept his arm out to emphasize his point. "Absolutely not!"

"Whoa Woody," he said, holding his hands up in a placating manner. "It's all right, it was just a suggestion. I mean, traveling with someone who knows what you're doing might be better than say, traveling with your father, since you're having problems getting into New York."

Abe sighed and merely looked to his left and back out the window, placing his hands on his hips as he said, "You'd better get going, Caleb. That soldier will be here shortly."

"All right, all right," he said, before snagging one last day-old stale biscuit, knowing that he did not need to worry about Abe hiding the codebook. Leaving through the front entrance, he took a long look around the field and forest that surrounded the small farmstead and when he was sure that there was no one watching him, he quickly ran towards the tree line.

Abe watched his friend through the curtains of the window nervously whispering, "Run Caleb!"

After seeing his friend was more than safe, nearing the tree line, he stepped back and picked up the journal, eyeing it cautiously and attentively.

"Wait Lillian… Kennedy, where did I hear that before?" He asked himself, mind racing in deep thought from where he heard this name before, but only twice and paid no mind to it until now.

"Shit!" He runs to the cupboard and shoves the book under old placemats and towels just as he heard footsteps walking along the side of the house to the front door, and the door opens with a click, and a small groan. In stepping the aforementioned Redcoat quartered at Abe's now empty home.

"Ah, good morning Mr. Woodhull!" The soldier exclaimed with a polite smile, seemingly forced on his tired face from being on duty all night.

"Good morning Mr. Baker, I have some leftover breakfast biscuits from yesterday's breakfast. I can cook you something hot if you'd like, my wife isn't here—"

"It's fine, sir," Baker says with an understanding nod, unstrapping the rifle from his back making Abe tense, even though the man was only taking it off his back, and he trusted the young bright-eyed soldier, he still lived in fear. Especially after what he walked in on when he and Anna were… intimate.

"I'll manage. For now, I must go prop my feet up and get some proper sleep," Baker's smile fades with a long yawn and trods slowly up the stairs, disappearing into his room. While he was walking up the stairs, Abe was watching him closely, and nodded his head after the man's door shut and locked.

"That's where I heard her name," he mumbles, swallowing worriedly. "Her _alias_."

* * *

 _That same morning back at Headquarters…_

If it weren't for the fact that the office he had been assigned was adjacent to a smaller one, Ben would have taken the open room next to Sackett's. However, due to the fact that their guests Lillian and Martha Washington had been accommodated here and only allowed out when either one of them has their proper escort, Martha sometimes lingers in the office next to Sackett's being a secretary for his General he was later told, and Lillian is in the smaller office adjacent to his for _reasons_.

Despite the significance of her working near him for matters of the Ring, he wasn't complaining about the view he had from his place. When he'd turn his head to stretch his neck, he'd gaze at her sitting perched on the edge of her seat, arched forward emphasizing the curve of her figure and back, engrossed in her writing.

"I hate refilling the ink every time, is it only me?" he heard her mutter quietly for what felt like the twentieth time since he had begun the day, but he smirked every time finding it humorous.

"No it isn't," he called over to her, making her turn sharply hardly expecting him to have heard her. She blushed lightly at Ben gesturing to him dipping his quill into the inkwell more than a couple times and finding herself shaking her head stifling laughter.

The door between his office and her study was open, mainly to allow fresh air to flow through, but it also allowed the woman to listen in to any reports that were verbally given to him as he sat here with written ones scattered all over his desk. Though tradition and secrecy dictated that he should not have allowed her to listen in on confidential intelligence and scouting reports, he realized once more she was no ordinary woman. Her father has let her sit in once before during a meet with his officers and she is a part of the Culper Ring, the most guarded part of this army he believed.

"Senseless plucked feather of a poor bird- I'm bringing my own quills next time..."

Mentally sighing, he placed his own quill down and got up. Taking the few steps over to where the frame that separated the two rooms. Peeking in, he saw that his new friend had already broken three quills. Expected because they weren't the finest ever made and only meant for quick reports and chicken scratch. He glanced back at the grandfather clock just outside in the hall. It was not even midday yet and she had already done this much destruction to the quills.

"Sorry," she said, looking up as he returned his attention to her attempts at writing down on parchment. "I'm bothering you aren't I? I'm used to being alone and talking to myself as I write to get my thoughts across."

He shook his head quickly in negative, saying, "It is no bother."

"Well, I say it is. I'll keep my complaints to myself. I'm beginning to sound like my mother, which isn't good." This caused him to laugh, at her own hilarity and how she speaks with such self-confidence yet says it demurely.

The entrance to the house opened and closed, and moments later, Caleb appeared at the entrance to his office, just as he resumed his seat. He couldn't help but smile as he saw his friend arrive with quite a flushed face and what hopefully would be good news.

"How's Mr. Culpeper?" he asked, grinning.

"Great...great," Caleb answered. "Living alone for now. Didn't ask why, but he's still got that British soldier quartered in his house."

"His wife?" he asked, concern filling him as he frowned slightly. Picking up his quill again, he waited for the answer before he would resume his report writing.

"Don't know, but I think she's doing well," his friend answered, starting to pace around, as if his rush to get the codebook to Abe had not worn him down and only made him more excited. "Don't know why they're separated, but he seems to be doing just fine, or as fine as can be. Those spoons... were they Anna's?"

"What?" he asked. The last time Caleb had been this vague had been about the supposedly wild night that his friend had spent with the most beautiful tavern wench in Elizabethtown, Genevieve. Not that Ben asked for details, it was just Caleb had a habit of giving him details when he didn't want them. Caleb had been awfully vague about Genevieve, other than saying that she was the most beautiful woman ever.

"Anna. There's something going between those two. Just don't know what," Caleb said while pacing back and forth. "You know, when I suggested that he take Anna to New York City to get past the checkpoint, he got very upset. Anyways, I supposed that this is none of our concern."

"They must've had an argument, him and his wife, or as they say, 'taking a break'," Lillian says joining the conversation.

"Perhaps the argument happened, but 'taking a break' my arse. They should've thought that before they got married there would be no breaks," Caleb commented making Lillian laugh.

Ben glanced up during his friend's comment from the report he was currently reading and transcribing via summary to another piece of parchment, quill paused in the middle of writing, "They're my only two agents on Long Island with the exception of Baker. If there's any trouble between them, I want to know about it."

"How's about jumping on a whaling boat with me, Major...get your arse out of this woodpile?"

A small grin appeared on his face as Ben tried to keep it from appearing, but due to their female guest in the next room, who was still scratching away on her reports or a letter of some sorts, though a little more quiet-like than she had been earlier, he dared not to say what he truly thought about Caleb's suggestion.

"I'd like to," Ben began, placing the quill down, seeing that he was not going to accomplish any relevant work done, not while Caleb was pacing in his office. "But Washington needs me here...compiling." Leaning back, he gestured to the pile of reports that littered his desk. "That, and there's also Sackett's 'homework'. 'Tradecraft' as he calls it. I feel like I'm back in school again."

"Yeah," his friend said, grinning, "See, this is exactly the reason why I've been careful to avoid success."

"Good for you, Caleb," came the barely heard quip from the room adjacent to his office. "My success is getting my hands bloody every day or myself almost injured."

"And facing potential death," Benjamin glanced over at her, remembering she said a patient stabbed her once before, which still leaves an unsettling feel in his stomach and mind to picture her lovely person harmed in any manner.

"The high life they call it," Caleb remarks with a grin and Lillian returns it.

"It's quite the life." The entrance to the house opened and closed, silencing whatever else Lillian was about to say.

"Sir!" the corporal who entered his office said, stopping at the foot of his desk.

"Sir, he says," Caleb mocked, though both the corporal and Ben ignored him.

"I have an urgent report from the Provost Marshal. Thought perhaps you'd like to see the latest prisoner exchange proposal."

"Thank you corporal," he answered, taking the letter and opening it with a flick of his wrists as the corporal left. Taking a few moments to read through the letter and formality paragraph, he scanned the list of the names...and immediately stood up in surprise, almost knocking his chair back and into the ground.

"What is it?"

"Samuel," he said, staring at the final name on the list, blinking in disbelief as an elated smile blossomed on his face. "It's Samuel...he-he's alive!" Caleb snatched the letter from him, but he didn't mind as he continued to say, "He's being released!"

Caleb's half-laugh, half-hearty cheer filled the room as he exclaimed, "Sammy-boy!" Happy and quite full of cheer and good spirits, he accepted Caleb's celebratory embrace, before his friend stepped back in an excited manner, saying, "We'll go get him!"

Ben's elation immediately fell as he realized the date of the exchange and when it was going to happen. "I-I have to report to Washington tomorrow," he said, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Ah, come-on!" Caleb said, "He'll release you for this!"

"No," Ben answered, removing his hands from his face, "he won't. He'll consider it 'special treatment'. There are other men's brothers on that list."

"I could report to him, since he'll want to talk to me anyways after you give your report, Major," the close voice of Lillian said, as both he and Caleb looked up and towards the back of the office to see the young lady peeking her head through the door. "I can convince him to," she says with confident eyes, causing Ben to gulp in surprise of her being a good convincer.

Ben then glances back towards the 'front' of his office to see that one of Washington's personal guard who stood vigilant outside of the office, Thomas Hickey, was his name, indicating nothing. It meant that there were no other visitors or occupants in the building other than him, Caleb, Hickey, and their Commanding General's daughter.

As a secret-keeper and personal guard of Washington, Hickey had most likely been informed of the generalities surrounding the circumstances of Lillian, which was also why he had been left behind. The guard was meant more to ensure that Lillian did not leave without her proper escort while the elder Sackett, Mrs. Washington, or Gen. Washington was not present.

"No," Ben said, shaking his head slightly. The offer was tempting, but he had an obligation to carry out his own duties as Head of Intelligence. It would otherwise reflect quite poorly on the trust that Washington had placed in him. "Thank you for the kind offer, my lady, but it is as the General and Mr. Sackett said, my duties cannot clash with yours."

Surprisingly, Lillian booked no argument and merely indicated her acknowledgment of the polite dismissal with a slight nod of her head and a curt, "Yes, sir."

She then returned to her place to try to continue writing her reports. He knew and understood that the woman was quite frustrated in being cooped up in the house since arriving here, and though there had been a look of longing to go outside, she had not asked in her suggestion earlier.

"All right, well I'll pick him up," Caleb said after a moment. Before Ben could say anything, he saw his friend dash towards the entrance, halting for a moment and turned back with a wide smile on his face. "I'll go and get Samuel, and I'll bring him straight back here...actually I'll get him drunk first... no I'll get him drunk and get him a screw."

"Wait, Caleb," he managed to say before the man disappeared.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," he said.

"Hey, what are brothers for, right?"

He smirked, before remembering something else, "Wait!"

Before the bearded, grinning man left Ben grabbed his shoulder and whispered, "If you can, be on the lookout for Robert Rogers. And do not hesitate to kill him."

"Where is this angst coming from for that Queen's Rangers pig leader?" Caleb asks bewildered, but just as quietly.

"I did just as you told me, Mr. Brewster. To speak up and inform of everything, and to not keep it in the back of my mind," Lillian says stepping out of her little room to stand near the two men in order to speak more hushed.

"The meet earlier this morning is where Mr. Sackett, the Major, and I spoke in more detail of our chains. More pointedly I was asked about Baker, and later the man I am after for killing my father, for what reason I don't know."

Ben removed his hand from Caleb's shoulder during her speaking, listening to her words falling frail the further she spoke.

"Robert Rogers killed my father," she says with emotionless eyes.

Caleb found his mouth dry, but he found the chance to speak, "Then you should do the honors of killing him then."

"Caleb!"

"Heavens no!" Lillian's eyes widened. "And do not kill him; take him in captive because I want to speak with him along with my father."

"I'll keep my eyes peeled, Princess," Caleb says, ending his promise with a smile. "And I got to focus on Sammy, drinks, and finding him a screw. Life is rough."

And then Caleb was gone, with the slamming of the entrance to the house heard a moment later. Ben sighed, wishing that he could feel as giddy as his friend did, but here he was, stuck with reports that needed to be summarized and compiled so that Washington could be properly informed.

"Sorry for cursing earlier too!" Caleb poked his head back through the front door, shouting towards the office he was just in.

Lillian smirked before shouting right back, "It's fine, Mr. Brewster!"

"Great! But you know," Caleb sauntered back in the house and leaned in the doorway of the office, making sure Hickey is out of earshot, looked at Lillian and ignored his friend who is staring at him questioningly. "You can just call me Caleb. We're all young here, friends, and 'Mr.' makes me feel old. I don't want to wear it out too soon y'know?"

Laughing, Lillian nodded, "I understand all too well. You may call me Lillian, then, or Lilly."

He winks, "Nah, Lil' Washington is still my favorite, easier to remember."

Ben's jaw was slack at the whole exchange, and his eyes stayed glued to the spot Caleb was once standing, now leaving out the door for sure.

"Are you alright, Major?" a light melodic voice asked him, and he quickly turned his face towards Lillian's, meeting her big brown eyes that are glazed with natural unshed tears and a sparkle in each of them, capturing every light everywhere she goes.

"Yes I'm fine. Only disheartened that I can't go see my brother, and confused of my friend's sudden forwardness towards you."

"No he wasn't forward at all, bold maybe, but not forward. In fact I've been meaning to mention that at one of our meets. We are seemingly developing a friendship bond, and being on a first-name basis seems appropriate…" She trails off looking in the direction where Hickey is standing guard.

She continues quietly as Ben pulls her further into the room, understanding flowing across his features, "Also the fact we are going to be communicating more quickly now, there won't be any time to say formalities and such," Lillian says playing with her hands but meeting his eyes unswervingly.

He found himself smiling thinly because he was holding back his goofy grin that wanted to plaster itself across his face.

"I couldn't agree more, but around so many ears at any time, I can be caught so easily and reprimanded for not using my manners in using your proper title for a lady in your standing," Ben states.

"Then when we are alone, like now, you may call me Lillian, or Lilly, I insist Major," she declares, bowing her head at his thoughtfulness to what society around them would think. If he called her so in public it would stir bad rumor and gossip.

"If you insist then. Benjamin," he says, deciding to take her white gloved hand and be bold to bow and place a kiss upon it. "Or Ben, at your service, Lillian."

She froze in place when he kissed her hand, but smiled huge, feeling a warmth inside her she hasn't felt in her whole life.

She made friends with people other than the people that live in her own home.

She wasn't alone anymore.

 **A/N: Thank you all for following, favoriting, and reviewing! Sorry for the delay but as I said last chapter, this was going to be a long one. And the new episodes of TURN have my head spinning at all that's happening lol! I have a lot in store for this fanfic, and tons more surprises on who will be in this. Please stay tuned! Thanks a million! :)**

 **BrownEyedGirl87**


	15. Chapter 15: Challenge

**Chapter 15:**

"This is just nasty."

Lillian and Derik are standing in the tent of an officer's makeshift tent, well, Derik is the one who is standing and watching Lillian, who is erratically walking around getting medical supplies to treat the wounded officer in places the servant didn't think possible could get wounded.

"Well I told you that you could stay outside the tent, but no, you took my father's orders to the heart," the young lady says placing her cold hand on the officer's forehead to estimate his fever. The change in temperature makes the man grin in pleasure, eyes closed in a reverie sleep of sorts.

Derik blinks out of surprise, but Lillian thinks it normal as it is a habit he has from working outside past his regulated shift, sweating more hours than necessary. He says he doesn't mind it, and if extra payment is acquired, he is 'chippy,' or well.

"As I should, Miss. Your parent's orders are to be taken serious in every word. If I am to be your escort, and with you at all times for the duration of this camp stay, I will abide to those rules."

"You can't be with me at all times, I'm sure you know what I mean," Lillian jests looking up at her family friend in his rather well-made coat, a rich green color contrast to his dark skin and bulging white eyes with dark irises. His worn-out pants, however, were atrocious. She'll have ask Maria for help on sewing a pair or two—or many for the soldiers of this camp. Her mother had already begun a woman's group, consisting mostly of officer's wives, to receive donations from fellow patriots for the cause during both winter and summer times.

Derik sighed, "I do. But for—oh-" he looked away, swallowing back vomit at the sight of the officer's exposed area on his lower stomach and upper thighs. It almost looks as if a cannon was trying to fly right through him, but whatever strength this man had, he rebounded it.

"Is it that bad if its making that boy grimace? Or should I think the opposite, you've been calm as the trees this whole time Miss Washington," the officer asks with a thick New York accent.

 _Peculiar phrase_ , she thinks to herself. But she quite likes it, it describes her well.

"I've been doing this for some time now, so I am used to seeing the different lesions on bodies. It also depends on the victim themselves if they are that bad off to determine how they feel," Lillian explains lightly touching the bandaged part of his leg.

The officer's hiss of pain, a low shout loud enough to be heard outside, made Derik tense. He hates drawing attention, even if it's not towards him, but watching Lillian remain calm and expressionless, he found himself in utter awe at her own strength and feeling safe with her presence of helping and curing. Does she know she possess what many desire? Men and women alike?

"You'll be just fine, General Schuyler. I recommend two night's rest before moving once more, but if you feel the strength to stand then by all means, try, without taking long strides or quick movements to tear open the stitches."

"What's the charge?" the General absent-mindedly reaches for his chest where his blue uniform coat with pockets should be on, but when not finding it there he begins looking left to right for his coin bag with all the money he carries in it.

"No charge," Lillian grabs his hand and lays him back down to cease further movements. "During wartime- even out of camps, my help is free."

"You have a mighty large heart, Miss, but I must repay you somehow- anything. You made sure I can walk again for the rest of my life."

She smiles, wiping the smudges of blood off her cheeks with a wet rag, "You may tell your daughters I say hello, and I look forward to seeing them at a ball during some point in this year."

The General laughs, "Will do! I miss my girls so very much. Thank you, I cannot thank you enough."

"You're welcome, sir, but no thanks is necessary," Lillian says taking her kit by the handle, after closing it, and walking out of the tent with a final smile towards the officer with Derik following behind her.

He eventually falls into step beside her, when she slowed down in her walking for him to catch up, and breathes in and out the fresh air (cold air) once more.

"Will you be alright?" She asks.

"Yeah, a little traumatized but alright."

Her loud catchy laughter caused eyes to look their way, and soldiers smiling seeing her walking around in her lovely simple gown, not showing off her wealth. Her father was one of the men in the wake of her laughter and smiled himself at his daughter, his precious gift, one of the many reasons why he is still fighting; fighting not just for her and his wife, but everyone and their freedom.

"I'm delighted that the fact I'm traumatized gives you happiness," Derik smirks vaguely.

"Oh no, it doesn't make me happy. It's only the way you said it as if it's a common happening for you!" She continues laughing lightly before gently calming herself down, realizing she was out in public in the eyes of men… people… from society…

And just like that she closed back up to her reserved self, and allowed Derik to lead her to the infirmary tent where majority of the sick soldiers are.

"Well it is. Your bad horse always runnin' off has me traumatized every day, fearing the worst and that I'll have to bear the bad news to you and your family."

"He always comes back," she looks at him gratefully. "And if that day ever came we wouldn't be angry. Upset, but what can you do? The horse was a wild one to begin with."

"You had him since you were a child. A connection such as that and ending badly can be heartbreaking."

"Do not tell me what I already know," she says glancing down, swallowing, thinking of her real parents. Gone, forever.

"I'm so sorry—"

"Too lighten the mood lets drop that part of the conversation. We have a long day ahead of us and it would be beneficial to keep good spirit. By the way, I also had my brother since I was a child. He is something else though, but if he ever ran off we'd all celebrate."

Benjamin Tallmadge was watching from his place inside headquarters, at the whole exchange between her and her servant 'Derik'. Very curious of what he stated with a plain and pale face, but her smile lit up everyone's faces in not just arm's length but in sight, and her laughter made it grow, just like his own, momentarily tearing his thoughts away from the matter at hand of securing his brother Samuel.

Seeing she was escorted safely into the infirmary tent, Ben returned to his seat, continuing his tradecraft and writing, listening to the grandfather clock tick and tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. And the hands wobbled ever so slightly.

Tomorrow morning is when the exchange will take place, and he clung to that happy thought to keep him compiling reports. For once, he felt his number one prayer was finally answered, and that was that his older brother is alive. His only family left other than his father, leading him to think of his mother.

"Rest in peace, mother," Benjamin mumbled to himself, waving the sign of the cross. A habit his remaining family began doing after each thought they have of their beloved mother her passing.

* * *

~ _Days previous_ ~

Ensign Baker walks up to Strong Tavern's doorstep in the dark through chortling drunk men and soldiers, securing the satchel in his hand once more before opening the creaking door, hoping he isn't walking in on any intimacy once more.

Luckily, Mrs. Anna Strong is far from it, alone (except for an asleep man at a table) and cleaning the used bowls, mugs, and goblets.

"Mrs. Strong?"

"I'm closing up for the night," she turns around startled, closing up a jar and wiping her hands on the sides of her dark dress. "Mr. DeJong asks I send the rum down to the cellar at 10:00."

Baker's hands fold in front of him, uncomfortable and, dare he prays he never admits it or shows it to his fellow men, 'shyness' in front of her as he is with many women, including a certain woman who has been on his mind since he first saw her—or—read her name on a letter that changed his life for the good. He is fighting for her.

He answers clearly in a low moderate tone, "No that's fine. I've come to deliver this, courtesy of Major Hewlett. It came via dispatch rider from New York. A Major John Andre sent it for the child of his housemaid, who Major Hewlett remembered is in your care and asked me to bring-"

"Cicero!" Anna shouted up the stairs accepting the satchel mid-speech, interrupting the British soldier who didn't seem to mind or take any offense.

"I'm almost done folding, Miss."

"Look, it's a birthday gift from your mother," Anna says with a bright teary-eyed smile handing him the sewn wool cap that was inside the satchel for the boy. "Look what she made."

Baker smiled forlornly at the exchange, happy for the young boy and seeing a smile light up his face, but in the way Mrs. Strong acted reminded him of Miss Washington, Lillian.

 _His Lillian…_

The way she treated her slaves, well 'servants', and housemaids like family, like equal people. Lillian told him once it was her goal to help end slavery if not so herself. At the time she said: _for now I'll do what I can at home. That's the best and only place to start. There are many wars to be fought in time._

His smile turned genuine watching the boy put on the winter cap, thankful that the boy has more warm attire now and his mother is still able and allowed to reach out to him now owned, by what it sounds like, by this Major John Andre.

With hands still folded in front of him, he goes to say something but is interrupted once more at the tavern door opening.

All heads turn to the man standing there, Abraham Woodhull, who holds onto the doorknob not expecting his quartered soldier to be here.

Neither did Baker expect him to be here, well partly. And at that thought he tried repressing of what he could've saw once more transpire inappropriately between the tavern owner and Mr. Woodhull, his smile disappeared.

"Mr. Baker," Abe nods his head politely.

Baker turns to Mrs. Strong whose smile dims lightly as well, and looking down to hide her still flushed and embarrassed cheeks that she was caught in a wrong doing nights previous.

He takes the satchel from her that he reached for, and bowed his head at her respectful nod of thanks.

"Ma'am," and with that he turned towards the door and walked past Mr. Woodhull close enough to almost brush against him, and out into the night once more, but this time with heavy-footing and a purposeful stride towards his place of stay, to be alone while Mr. Woodhull is out of the house.

"It's time I write you once more Lillian, now I can think clearer without a crying baby in the house," he whispers under his breath to himself when he walks on the empty country road, out of earshot and sight.

* * *

"Major Tallmadge," Lillian walks in with a mixed stack of paper and letters in different shades of white, such as fresh white paper, faded paper, and yellowish stained parchment. She sets them on the table close to his cartable writing desk with a relieved sigh of not carrying the little weight anymore.

"I compiled some of the stack you had on your desk during what free time I had last night, particularly Mr. Sackett's ideas on tactics for the ring. And during my compiling I found more—" she paused looking at him staring at the grandfather clock. He hasn't acknowledged her at all!

"Major," she says being careful not to use his first name to get his attention better, glancing behind her at the several soldier's footsteps moving through the hallways of the house busy in their assigned tasks.

When she stepped closer to him, he turned around to face her with a concerned face, mirroring her own.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"Something isn't right. They should've been back minutes ago," he answers raking a hand across his head.

"Maybe the returned prisoners are slowing them up," she offers her thought to calm him down.

"Or something went awry," he says looking her in the eyes with an intensity she hasn't seen in them since he burned the letter written from 'him'. "Something is telling me—I'm going."

He hurries across the room and picks up his sword, sheathes it, and looks around for his helmet frantically. He always has his sword and helmet together-

"It's here on the floor by your desk," Lillian breaks his thoughts holding out his white plumed helmet for him to take, which he receipts much gentler than how he picked up his sword.

"Thank you," he clears his throat as he bows his head. "Sorry for my brash moving-"

"You're apologizing for reacting on how you feel? I've never met a man such as you, Ben."

His eyes widened and looked past her to look for anyone around.

"They all left, I heard their feet walk out the house and the door shut," she assures.

"No it wasn't that," he shakes his head and slightly berating himself for thinking such a thought when she raised a dark eyebrow. "It was your comment that you never met a man such as I."

She blinks, still confused, "Alright. Well I also never met a man like Mr. Sackett, or Caleb… Or—"

"Never mind, my apologies for confusing you. For a moment I thought—"

"Ben you need to go. Go get your brother, til then I'll be waiting to meet him. I can't wait," she offers him a smile that he returns with half his mouth twitching up. "Stay safe too."

"I will… Miss Washington," he bows low, giving her a knowing look as he returns to his straight posture, and walks away from her putting on his helmet.

"Miss Washington, your mother requests your presence in her rooms," guard Hickey walks in informing her with his bayonet in hand. Lillian smiles to herself silently thanking Ben in her thoughts for being attentive to their surroundings as well.

She nods her head, "Yes I'll be there momentarily, and you're dismissed from your duty til I return back here."

"Yes my lady," he nods his head, letting a small smile light up his face before he too walks out the house and goes to his post outside for a break from guarding her.

Lillian casts a glance at the godfather clock ticking away, praying that all the soldiers involved in the prisoner exchange return alright, and Benjamin who is on his way to meet them probably half way back by now.

"I'm sure he's worrying for nothing," she mumbles to herself as she goes to the staircase, picks up her dark purple skirts, and begins climbing the steps to see her mother.

* * *

"Just a bit further," Caleb calls over his shoulder trudging through the woods with a man who was posed as Samuel Tallmadge, Selah Strong.

He is from Setauket just as Caleb and Benjamin are, and, according to Caleb when talking to a Captain vouching for the posed man, claimed Selah is 'more patriot than the two of them put together.' The men after the exchange at the time couldn't risk bringing an unknown prisoner back into camp, so Caleb took Selah with him into neutral territory in direction to Elizabeth Town; shrubbery, dirt, fallen branches, and vines is all over the forest floor.

"Can't," Selah moans. "Need to rest."  
"All right, here," Caleb stops in his fast pace, hangs his head and sighs hearing Selah fall against a tree and quickly sit down on some branches. They weren't gaining anything in the walk so far.

"Sip and stretch, can't stop long, here," Caleb hands his canteen of water to the horrible looking man who looks and sounds like he needs the hydration, even if the water was from a cloudy stream he passed just before the prisoner exchange. Caleb himself was desperate for water then, and figured Samuel Tallmadge would need it as well.

"So, this Genevieve is a tavern wench?" Selah smirks, trying to have casual conversation with a man he's glad to have with him now and be taken away from the enemy imprisonment.

"Aye, prettiest I've ever seen. That's where we're headed Elizabeth Town Tavern."  
"Was she dark or fair?" Selah asks.

"She were both."  
"Like my Anna?" Selah smiles sadly at the thought of his wife, missing her.

Before Caleb can respond, a gunshot rings out, "Get down!" He pulled Selah with him around some trees until finding an edge in the ground that drops off to lower ground, acting as a barricade for the soon duel.

After sliding down the edge, Caleb and Selah take a peek over the top and catches eye of an Indian, black man carrying a load on his back like a mule, and a revenge seeking ranger—If the gun he's firing at anything that moves or his notorious attire is anything to go by.

"It's three against two," Selah says looking afar with Caleb.  
"In your shite condition, it's more like three against one," Caleb comments getting his rifle ready.

"Robert Rogers?"

Caleb tenses at the name, Ben and Lillian giving him orders to not kill him. Well, Ben ordered him dead at first: ' _do not hesitate to kill him'_ , but Lillian wanted him alive for questioning, which is the best option. However, catching a greased pig isn't that easy, and he knows that for a fact from personal experience.

"Aye, I think so."

"Give me a gun," Selah states seriously, making Caleb smirk and nudge a gun over to the man with his elbow.

"Well, the bright side," Caleb continues. "If Rogers does kill us, at least Benny boy will be still alive to murder him, huh?"

* * *

 **~ Meanwhile at camp**

Lillian peers out the curtain fogged window upstairs in her mother's room, looking down at the returning soldiers from the prisoner exchange bringing back men who look tortured, beaten, scarred, hunger driven—blinking, she rubbed at the window to make sure what her eyes are seeing is true. There's a dead man in a cart!

"Lillian, are you listening?" Martha, sitting at her vanity fixing her thin up do as she asks her daughter.

"Yes mother I am," she answers closing the curtain not seeing Ben or Caleb anywhere, and sits on her mother's bed, breathing quicker in worry at the realization of what could have happened out there… _Redcoats… Thieves… Rangers…_

"You don't look so well, that's all. Did something catch your eye down there?" Martha sighs asking her daughter, expecting her usual answer to be about sick looking soldiers that need her help (which makes her feel bad every time she says no because Derik isn't here to escort Lilly all the time), or her father giving orders wishing he was inside out of the cold.

But the answer that spilled from her adopted daughter's lips caused her to pause in what she was doing. Not something, but _someone._

"I was waiting for someone to return after the prisoner exchange."

Martha smiles faintly, "Is this _someone_ a prisoner? Please say no, my sweet. Marry for love yes, but not a prisoner, criminal-"

"No he isn't a prisoner," causing Martha to sigh. "But I should say I'm waiting for some people. They're my friends, you know, the two men I've been working with in the office compiling reports for father."

"Just say spying my dear even though you're not doing the dirty work. You're merely hanging up the laundry for George to take down and de-wrinlkle."

Lillian shrugged and grinned at her mother's comparison, "I like that analogy."

"Anyway is it that Tallmadge fellow? I know of him but the other one escapes me. Or I haven't met him which I don't believe I did."

"Caleb Brewster. His work is more outside and… traveling around."

"Oh like an aide de camp?"

Lillian blinks at the term, "Yes but no, he doesn't have that title."

"What is it then?"

"A regular volunteer for the army," Lillian answers, stopping herself from saying _the_ _Culper courier_. She blinks back some tears using those words in her answer, thanking the Lord above for brave men, and everyone around willing to volunteer their lives for the cause to secure their countries future.

"That's lovely, Lilly," her mother turns to face her directly from her vanity chair. "Perhaps if you're close enough with one of them, you can invite them to the ball in Philadelphia at Penn Mansion."

Lillian laughs lightly, "Oh no, I don't think so mother. They need to be here, under Father's orders. And the Shippen's in fact would appreciate less people."

"I'm sure we can convince your father, or I, to allow a moment's holiday for them to escort you to the ball this summer. One lucky soldier will need a break, especially in the summer heat fighting."

"No it's fine. I prefer being alone right now for obvious reasons. And I need to be alone there to keep my eyes open for fresher, sun-kissed faces that aren't freezing in this weather," Lillian says, feeling soft, warm hands cup her face and wipe away a lone tear that escaped her eye. "That's what that Mary woman told me to do in a recent letter she sent me. She's just jealous I'm in a camp surrounded by rebel men."

Ignoring the comment of Mary, "We will find that man who killed your father and figure out why," Martha whispered comfortingly pulling her teary eyed daughter into her chest, rubbing the back of her head. "And I'm sorry we had to lie to you all that time. You were just too young to know."

"You did what you had to do, and I thank you. I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for you and father, keeping me happy and sane always."

"Even when you never asked for anything but our time? We just had to spoil you still for being so sweet and cute!"

"Yes," Lillian smiles. "And I still do ask for nothing more than your time."

"One day it'll all return to normal, but next time it'll be a free country when we're sitting on our back porch looking at the river, playing checkers, chess—"

"There's no _we_ in checkers or chess for me, I'll be eating lemon cakes watching you and father stare at each other for hours," Lillian jokes making her mother laugh.

"Or you'll be busy staring yourself into the eyes of your husband, giving us some grandchildren," her mother sighs dreamily at the thought of babies in her arms as Lillian quickly tears away, coughing awkwardly at the thought.

"That's definitely a far day away."

"Not as far as you think my dear. Time flies by," Martha says wistfully. "I'm proud of you Lillian. We both are."  
"For waiting til marriage?"

"No, for being you."

Lillian smiles, "That's all I ever want to be."

* * *

Benjamin flies through the woods on a leafy path, racing the orange sun that is about to set making the woods glow and anything shiny gleam, like his helmet, coat buttons, belt and shoe buckles, and sword at his side.

"Captain Henry?" He calls pulling up to the soldiers walking back from the prisoner exchange.

"Major," the Captain looks surprised.  
Ben stops his horse, "What news of the prisoner exchange?"

"We were ambushed, sir. Queen's Rangers."  
Ben's eyes widen in shock, heart dropping to his stomach like it has been of late, "What?" Then he looks around quickly, and turning back to the Captain to maintain professional eye contact as much as he can, "My brother? Where's my brother?"

"They attempted to pose another man in his stead, sir. Brewster vouched for him, but I couldn't risk bringing an unknown prisoner back to camp."  
"What about Brewster? Where's Brewster?" Ben orders to know, urgently as worry settles at the pit of his stomach.

"He headed north, sir, through neutral territory. He said to tell you _Genevieve_. He was sure you'd understand what it meant."  
After that information was said, he kicked his horse into a speedy trot, leaving the men behind him, "Come on, boy."

"Get down!" Ben shouts as he fires his gun, the bullet hitting the Indian running away from him.

"Get him under cover!" He hears another man shout behind shrubbery, and watches the black man run out from hiding leading his eyes back to Caleb's form behind a tree and rides his horse to him until a shot rings out, and Ben feels his horse lurch backwards on its hind legs, and he falls off with a hard thud, helmet flying off.

Instincts kick in, and he sits up with pistol in hand, locking eyes with the grey bearded man who shot at him—Robert Rogers, who shot him a while back when he returned back to camp in the Queen's Rangers disguise to inform General Scott of the British spying.

With a sucked in breath, he jumps up to his feet and races Caleb back further into the woods, watching his friend wave over to him and gesture to a mound of dirt.

Running briskly, watching his footing as well, with a hand holding onto the hilt of his sword, he makes it to the mound and slides over the edge and down the short slope, covered just enough from any gunfire. And Caleb is one second after him.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Caleb asks like he's crazy.

"Trying to save you," Ben answers fiddling with his pistol, reloading the ammunition.  
"I meant for us to meet at the Elizabeth Town Tavern, all right? Don't you know a trap when you see one!?

Ben glances an unaffected glare at his friend's 'thankfulness', "You're welcome, Brewster."  
"Well, you wanted Rogers, right? You got him," Caleb takes in breaths after every word, calming down from almost being killed, and realization settling in that they won't be going to Elizabeth Town anytime soon.

* * *

 _~ Nightfall_

Starving and cold, the three men sat behind the mound for hours. Caleb sits perched up on the mound every now and then, looking out for anyone nearby, or the shine of a gun aiming towards them while Selah sits back against a tree slowly falling asleep, and Ben lies on his side in attempts to stretch his legs and back from sitting for so long. Not to mention, his head is leaned to the side to get rid of the little pain from falling off his horse and helmet toppling off.

"Tell me about my brother," Ben said after a while of staring at Selah who hasn't said much to him the whole time.

Caleb looked between the two men, and the silence that followed, only making Ben's jaw shut tight and eyes squint with wanting to know.  
"He's got a right to know, Selah," Caleb whispers conveying no emotion, worried for Ben's reaction.  
"The Jersey-" Selah speaks slowly with his sore throat, blinking at the memory of the prison vessel-"was hell. We had to fight for food, air to breathe. We became animals. We cursed God, all of us except Samuel."

At this point the corners of Ben's eyes were forming tears, and his composure fell at every word Selah continued speaking after he said his brother's name.

"Your brother prayed every night. Convinced me to pray, too. To fight. We protected each other.  
But I couldn't protect him from dysentery."

Ben looked away, feeling the hot tears sting his eyes in the bitter cold, which made the pain in his chest increase more and he found himself having trouble breathing holding back any sobbing he naturally would have done if it weren't for their situation.  
"When it was done, I was the one who carried Samuel above deck. I prayed his soul go to heaven and sent his body to the sea."  
Caleb finally spoke up gently after watching his friend forlornly, and rub his eyes and wipe his sniffling nose, "Hey, at least he's at peace now, Ben."  
"Peace?" Ben breathes out the word that hasn't been in his life for some time now. "What peace? My brother died like a dog with everything stripped from him. And now, even in death, Rogers he steals his name to set a trap for me?"

"You're not the only family name he has in mind, now," Caleb swallows as he interrupts his friend's growing, silent angered and upset rant. "Lillian's own father was _stripped_ from her life because of him."

Ben's teeth clench, and looks down at the snow with a resolute sniff, "Which is why he dies tonight."

"Who is Lillian?" Selah asks as the same time Caleb spoke, not recalling anyone from Setauket named that.

"No Ben, she needs her own peace, to question him and know—

Ben shakes his head with a raw smile, "But it's the ugly truth. She doesn't need to know it, someone as sweet and innocent as her. I don't want her knowing the ugly in this world-just as her current father wants-and the ugly that took her father away from her, and my brother."

"You know she'll be wondering what happened seeing we haven't returned with the other boys," Caleb says.

"I'll tread lightly," Ben glances at Caleb before laying back on the cold ground, sighing at the pain lessening in his back.

"Sounds like you took a shining to this Lillian, Ben," Selah says after some time, bringing light to the darkness of their conversation, making Caleb smirk.

"I'll say. You should've seen his letter to her from a while back. He's—

"-Shove it Caleb. He's lying," Ben tells Selah.

"And you better be lying about killing Rogers," Caleb tells his friend with a serious face once more, bringing their conversation back to business. "We— _I_ promised I'd bring that man to Lillian. You shouldn't even be here right now but waiting for your brother."

"What good that would've done," Ben berates himself as he thinks deeply, and his thinking face doesn't go unnoticed by the two men, especially Caleb who knows him better.

"Caleb, try raising a tree branch over the mound, see if anything happens," Ben asks sitting back up and rolling onto his stomach, sliding on his stomach crawling up the side with his friend going to his side quickly with a branch.

"Let's see if these bastards shoot," Caleb quietly mouths to Selah who nods his head understanding what is going on now.

No less than a second after he held the branch out, a gun shot rang through the air hitting the branch, with wood bits flying everywhere. Caleb drew his arm back quickly and discarded the branch, picking up his rifle and setting it at the top of the mound, lowering his head to aim with Selah repeating the action, getting his own pistol ready as all three men are on their stomachs now, muscles tense.

"I have a plan," Ben says.  
"Yeah? Would you mind filling me in?" Caleb whispers back.

"Victory or death."  
"No," Caleb shakes his head.  
Ignoring his friend's concern, and casually answers back in a level above a whisper, "It's the only option, Caleb. You know this."  
"You're not going out as some decoy."  
Ben snaps back with gritted teeth as he locks his gun, "I won't let you die because of me."  
But Caleb's hand on his arm stops him, and the blue coated man glares up at him from lowering himself from the mound as if moving to stand up, "I'm sorry about Sammy, Tall-boy. I am. And I can't bring him back like I promised. But I can help you get out of these woods and back to camp."

The sound of horse hooves draw near, and the neighing makes the three men look over the mound further, seeing Rogers, freeze in his walk towards them with a musket in hand, and redcoats arrive on the horses.  
"Shite," Caleb hisses.  
"Hold the line," the British officer orders.  
"Uh, about getting you back to camp," Caleb trails off, expecting Ben's glare this time.

"Whoa. Whoa," the British officer tells his horse and holds a hand up to his men to stop theirs.  
"We know you're there. We followed the report of your guns. This standoff must cease and desist by order of Major John Andre. Both parties must put aside their arms and come down!"

Caleb glances at Ben with a distressed and knowing look that they'll have to lay down their arms and show themselves. And Selah understood this first, as soon as the man made the order he stood up, glancing down and Ben and Caleb, who nod their heads and stand as well, gripping their weapons seeing Roger's still holds his resolutely.

"Both parties must put aside their arms! Now come down!" The same British officer shouts.

"Just put aside the weapons, he didn't say drop them," Caleb says making Ben's lips smirk indistinctly. At those words, they walked out, Caleb throwing his rifle over his shoulder, Ben puts his gun in his holster, and Selah gives his borrowed gun back to Caleb because he had nowhere to put it.

Ben kept his grip on the pommel of his sword, however, because he is a Major- an officer after all. He's seen generals and Commander Washington do the same when speaking to other authorities. During their walk, Rogers sat his gun rear facing down, and leaning on the top of it as the Indian and black man joined him, with their weapons down.

When they stop, the British officer scoots his horse closer with the other men, and speaks, "The flag of truce is a symbol that must be treated with the highest honor and respect at all times, not the least of which during a sanctioned exchange of prisoners."  
"As representatives of His Excellency, General George Washington, we do concur and abide by this tradition," Ben states clearly, staring down Rogers who is returning the same gesture.  
"That man is not who he pretends to be," Rogers points a finger at Selah in accusation, briefly reminding Ben of a schoolyard fight between two groups of children, but this was an actual _fight_ , involving guns.  
"May I see your papers, sir?" The officer asks Selah, who reaches in his coat pocket, neither unaware of Ben sneering at Rogers. "Are you Samuel Tallmadge?"

"Yes, I am," Selah answers promptly, knowing what he is doing as if reading Ben's mind.

"This man is my only brother, Captain Samuel Tallmadge, imprisoned on the Jersey these past six months," Ben states once more ever so clearly.

"So confirmed," the officer hands the papers back to Selah who takes them, and tucks them back in his pocket. "I place these three men under my protection, and you, Major, have orders to report to Major Andre at once."

Rogers stares at Ben, and quietly he breaks the silence, "There is no place on this continent that you can hide from me."  
"Oh, I won't be hiding," Ben smirks modestly.

The black man stared at Rogers unsure of what he was about to do, and worried, but when he saw Rogers turn back around with a helmet handed to him by the Indian, he sighed in relief.

"Tallmadge," Rogers says during the toss, and Ben takes it with an impassive face.

"One good hat deserves another."

* * *

That night, after giving up looking for Ben and Caleb from her window and asking the guards posted outside her doors if they've seen them, Lillian fell into deep slumber in her bed, woke up, and kept tossing and turning feeling uncomfortable.

The next morning, now, her disheveled haired head was at the foot-board, her feet on her pillows, and covers strewn off the bed.

Light hitting her face woke her up from her light sleep in a groan, seeing Maria standing by her window grinning, putting down a plate of biscuits at her desk.

"Someone had a rough night."

"Did they come back yet?"

"They came back at the crack of dawn from what Derik said, he watched out for them for you. Now Major Tallmadge and Lt. Brewster are here to speak to you," Maria answers, chuckling at Lillian jump out of bed, grab a biscuit and begin chewing on it, talking with her mouth full.

"I forgot he was a Lieutenant, better tell mother that next time. I need to get dressed, now," Lillian says shoving the biscuit in her mouth to be able to take off her nightgown, feeling the cold air hit her.

"While eating?"

Lillian looks over at her, "You know how much of a multi-tasker I am."

"But I never knew you were capable of trusting some people, men, you just met this season, and you're already worried over them."

 _She has a point,_ Lilly thinks.

"I guess they brought back a side of me that's been begging to come out, since I was younger," she says squeezing Maria's hand when the woman reached for hers.

Maria then lets go of her hand, and picks up the dark blue dress hanging on the chair, the dress in which she arrived in, "I'm happy you have more people that you trust in your life now."

* * *

"You're to guard her, but you can't go get her? What if there's an emergency? You can't wait to send a servant up to alert her all the time," Caleb asks Hickey who stands at the staircase with an annoyed and cautious face.

"I sent the families servant Maria to go get her, she will be down shortly, under orders of Gen. Washington. Mind you it is still early, so she is probably waking up," Hickey says before he hears light footsteps on the staircase behind him, and he turns to see Lillian descending down them carefully, with a plate of biscuits in hand.

"No, I've been awake, just eating my breakfast until Maria came to tell me she heard complaining. So I'm here to settle it," Lillian looks at Caleb pointedly once she gets to the last step.

"Well you just did, Princess," Caleb grins. "I was wondering why he couldn't go get you himself, since Miss Maria over there was… preoccupied with work."

"No man is allowed up there other than my father, or maybe Mr. Sackett. He has a fascination of giving _homework_ at the most inopportune times," Lillian explains, smiling when Ben smirks in agreement at her assertion. She takes the short amount of time to take in both men's appearances: same as they left, all tidy. Well, Caleb… His own look of tidiness.

"Homework?" Hickey asks her curiously.

"It's complicated. Contrary to popular belief I still believe he doesn't like me. Now, may I interest you men in some fresh biscuits that I didn't touch? Don't worry I had my fill, I'd just hate for good food to go to waste."

Benjamin, thinking of how to explain Rogers this whole time, looks at her now with piqued curiosity now and amusement at her quirky morning self. It's peculiar yet endearing how she goes on a subtly calm rant.

"Don't mind if I do, thanks," Caleb takes three biscuits from the plate of five, making Hickey stare at the man with a look of 'really?' and disgust at Caleb's dirty hand.

"Here, for my complaining," Caleb hands one of them to Hickey, but instead he reaches for one off the plate.

"I'm good with one, thanks. And thank you Miss Washington I appreciate it."

"Thank you, Miss Washington," Ben says as well, taking the last biscuit, but not eating it just yet.

"Now, what was I called down for, sir?" She asks Ben who promptly answers.

"To discuss the reports we missed last evening, and the new ones that arrived just this morning," He looks at her with a discreet knowing look, claiming she knew what he'd meant, which she did.

Bowing her head, "Of course. Right this way." And with that she lead the two men into the usual room where Ben compiles reports, and Caleb being the last one in shuts the door while eyeing Hickey who stands outside guarding, eating his biscuit quite pleased.

After setting down the empty plate on Ben's desk temporarily, she turns back around with a frown.

"What happened out there? Men came back with the prisoners, and one was dead from someone 'firing on the exchange with no regard for the prisoners or the proceeding.'" Lillian quotes what she heard from her father last night.

She turns to Ben, "And you left not minutes before they returned, yet you come back this morning, the both of you unscathed, at least I hope."

The whole time she spoke, it sounded like a mother, Ben's own mother, who cared for him and his friend Caleb since they were in diapers. He didn't feel like he was being fussed at, she was demanding answers- what they both knew she'd do. They already know her well given that they just met this winter.

"And your brother wasn't among the men. I asked my father and another general if they've seen him but the answer was 'no' every time. I figured you found him," Lillian says, ending her admission optimistically much to Ben's dampened spirit.

"We're just fine, Lillian," Ben says in attempt to calm her. "We only ran into some trouble in the woods—"

"No, you ran into trouble in the woods coming to save the day. I was already in it with Selah-" Caleb is interrupted by Lillian.

"I thought his name was Samuel?"

"It is," Ben says with a dry voice. "But it wasn't him. Selah is from Setauket, and the husband of Anna, our petticoat signal. I'll explain how he got on the Jersey later if you wish to know, but for now, I'll explain our side."

"Ben," Caleb warns, stepping close to Lillian, who looks over at him in trepidation. "I thought you said-"

"I know what I said, but—" he paused. _She has a right to know. She has a right to know._

Caleb was confused by Ben's sudden want to tell her. He himself wanted to tell Lillian to begin with, but Ben made it clear he did not want to tell her the _ugly truth_. Now Ben is about to tell her? What about her protection from what he went on and on about?"

"Friends don't lie to each other," Lillian says breaking the long silence, making Caleb jump, and feel his heart fall at her tone. "I may not have had many friends, but I know what is true in relationships of any kind."

Ben's mouth opened and shut, and when it shut so did his eyes, thinking what he should do.

 _She'd be disappointed they didn't bring Rogers back to her, if they found him, just as she asked_.

 _She'd be hurt, angered by this as well as him lying to her—that is if he chooses to not tell her what happened and she found out later on somehow._

 _She'd be hurt, angered, if he told her that his brother is dead, and Rogers posed Selah as his brother to lure him into a trap._

"How about this instead: Do not lie to a Washington," she says conveying no emotion, only drawing the silence among the three of them out further.

Finally, Ben shakes his head slowly, "You don't need to tell me what I already know."

"Then tell me what you know, please," she says, blinking when he motions for her to sit down as he draws back his desk chair.

She sits in it gently, and folds her hands in her lap, expectantly and nervous.

"Selah, was posed as my brother Samuel, who died on the _Jersey_ just before Christmas, of dysentery which I'm sure you know about in your profession," Ben begins, feeling his heart constrict at her inhale of breath.

Caleb looked away, taking a bite out of one of his biscuits, going to stand by the window, shaking his head.

"And since Selah was posed as my brother, we found someone was behind it. It was a trap to lure me in that is if I went to go pick up my brother and be killed.

"That was the person who fired on the exchange killing a poor man," she mutters.

"And that person was Robert Rogers," Ben says quickly, gauging her reaction of shock and horror.

Before she could speak, he held up his hands.

"It made me want to kill him then and there, once I arrived on the scene. Until Caleb broke my thoughts reminding me of you wanting to take Rogers captive. He's-he's a horrible man, and you're a sweet lady, and none of this makes sense to me as to why you don't want him dead right now," Ben says feeling tears escape his eyes.

"Because he killed my father, and I want to know why before anyone can kill him. It pains me to not know the sick reason why he did," she responds feeling tears prick her eyes seeing this man crumple in tears in front of her, and part of her mind was telling her that he wasn't even aware of it. "It hurts unlike any hurt you may have felt in your life. No doctor can understand that pain."

Caleb speaks up, "Which is why he was kept alive. The Redcoats from the exchange were given report on our standoff, and they took care of the matter. We all left peacefully and returned in one piece. Except for the Indian he got hit right where it hurts."

Ben glared at his friend for saying peace once more, and 'piece', accidentally. He keeps telling himself to calm down, but to no avail just yet. He is grieving still.

"Indians too, what else is out there," She leans back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling with her head tilt back. "So he is close by."

"Yes he is," Caleb says coming near her again. "And Ben and I will find him once more, and we'll bring him here."

"I don't see it being this winter, what's left of it. I'm leaving before spring begins. If you find him then or up until the fall, my father will interrogate him. It won't be the same, but it'll be better than nothing," Lillian explains, and snapping her head back up, startled at Ben's hand touching hers.

Still teary eyed, but with the same determinism in them, he nods his head, "It'll all be fine. You will get what you want, Lillian."

She glanced up at Caleb quickly, who was smirking before turning away when she saw him.

"I should be the one comforting you, and I should have said this sooner. I'm sorry for your loss," she tells Ben. "It'll all be fine, and you'll get what you want as well. All good things to those who wait."

Ben laughs heartily, wiping his eyes in the chair across from her, shaking his head.

"And you too Caleb," she looks over at him who just finished his last biscuit.

"What I really want are some more biscuits, please. If there are any extra. I didn't have dinner last night," Caleb asks with a shrug.

"Caleb," Ben rolls his eyes, putting a hand to his head, and looking at Lillian when she just laughed.

"I'll ask Maria to find any extra, if not she'll be happy to make a new batch. For now," she placed her hand on Ben's shoulder, making him freeze all over, which is unlike him. "stay in here as long as you'd like until you are needed out there in the cold again."

She turns to look down Ben, "You were inside all day yesterday, and with your disappearance you may have missed something."

"I probably did, thank you."

"You're welcome."

On her way out she shut the door behind her, nodding at Hickey, and caught up to Maria who was already walking towards the small kitchen.

"Maria, can you cook some eggs, bacon, and biscuits for the two men in that room. They never had dinner last night," Lillian asks her friend.

"I'd be glad to," she says kindly.

"Thank you."

 **A/N: Finally an update :) I got sick, summer heat hit my face and made me sleepy- writer's block happened, but never fear, I'll always update!**

 **Long chapter but A LOT happened. Rogers, you cruel man for trying to kill Ben! The next chapter will be something alright. You'll see what's in store real soon.**

 **Thank you everyone once again! Please review! :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	16. Chapter 16: Against Thy Neighbor

**Chapter 16 Against Thy Neighbor**

 _Morristown Headquarters_

"The answer was here all the time. Sir, we merely needed the key," Benjamin expresses to Washington impatiently.

"The cipher key, from Major Andre's own code book no less," Sackett nods his head favorably, "courtesy of our friend in New York."  
"Mr. Culpepper does not shy away from the bold play," Washington states.  
Blue eyes shining, Ben continues enthusiastically, "And once Mr. Sackett deciphered it, we were able to apply it to the encrypted dispatches that we intercepted last month."  
"And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales, and he received sight forthwith," Sackett slowly says bringing Ben out of his musings.  
Washington hums as he observes the older man, saying dryly, "Mr. Sackett, it seems, has undergone a conversion to faith."

Ben tried his hardest not to allow any sort of noise that constituted as laughter to escape his lips as he heard Sackett said, "Perhaps because this is the first time we are able to see their moves as a deity might from on high-"

"Sir," he jumped in before Sackett could continue his hilariously bombastic speech, "the enemy tried to take Philadelphia by sea-" he reached over for the black rook piece and placed it on the a part of the map "—by the Delaware bay."  
Ben snatches the chess piece he was eyeing the whole time in order to explain further with a visual sprawled before them. He placed the piece on Delaware Bay smoothly, near the blue barricade pieces (Continental Army).  
Washington points out with a light breathy tone, gesturing to the valley region north of New York City, "All of our scouting reports argue that the attacks will come by land from the north."

"That's what they want you to think," Sackett shakes his head.  
"It's a feint, sir," Ben says. "The dispatches indicate that General Howe has ordered 3,000 men to be withdrawn from Cornwallis's troops and quietly marched to Staten Island, where the Royal Navy has secretly gathered over 100 boats for an expeditionary force."

After he watched the Major move another red piece, Washington walks around the table away from the two men to think to him, but the men followed him quickly, and Ben grabbed his helmet off the table.

"The order reportedly left Cornwallis in high dudgeon, anxious as he was to personally thank you for disrupting a visit to his wife with that, uh, Trenton affair," Sackett finishes as the General turns around, nodding at the Major constructively before ordering.  
"Major Tallmadge, you are to ready a detachment to rendezvous with General Arnold in Connecticut, dragoons and militia, immediately."  
"North? But, sir, we've just proven that the attack will be coming from-" Ben is interrupted by Washington."

"-From the south, which is why I will make plans to shore up our defenses on the Delaware, if you agree."  
"Of course, sir," Ben faintly nods his head as he agrees with no other choice to.  
"Good, then unless you think it's wise to inform the enemy of our plan, perhaps you will join me in convincing them that their plan is working," Washington explains hushedly through dimly smiling lips.  
"A counter-feint," Sackett beams quite happily, shaking his head at the concrete well-thought plan.

Letting a smile finally form with his crooked teeth, Washington puts on his tricorn and tells the Major before walking out the door, "You have discretion to act as you see fit to advance the mission."

Ben is left standing proudly receiving such an order with words laced in trust. Wonder and nerves make his smile fade; coming to consensus he has been given the power to act on his own accord- a dream many fellow soldiers—with more potential than he, he believes—would despise him for receiving. It is a serious order, responsibility, to be given.  
"I'll stay here," Sackett nods his head, placing his hands on his hips in a relaxed fashion. "Lillian should be returning soon to discuss the finality of her plan before she leaves."

Ben blinks, turning around in confusion, "I'm sorry, what, sir? She isn't leaving until the start of spring. She said-"

"Yes she's not leaving yet, but she is leaving for Setauket before this afternoon to speak with one of her own agents."

"No, Baker isn't an agent, Mr. Sackett, he's a redcoat. And didn't you say the handler and agent shouldn't be in the same place?" Ben loses his nerve in front of the old man, who seems unfazed by his worry. "We all made agreements- vows to secure this spy ring and ensure it lasts. Making her-"

Sackett is quick to defend, "I'm not making her do anything, Tallmadge. It is all her plan and it is… approved. Approved by her father, I must say."

"Where is she?" Ben asks gripping his helmet closer to him feeling a cold breeze sweep through the house, realizing the door was wide open this whole time.

"Doing her nurse work, from what her mother said."

* * *

"He-here lies Abbott Redmond," a woman's stuttering voice reads the tombstone.

Lillian looks down at the grave of the soldier she came to know, escorting her mother and her to and from home. He died of tetanus just this morning from having a rusty bullet in him that wasn't removed quickly enough.

She shakes when Ashley grabs her hand, a young servant of their household who came along with them to help with the cleaning and keeping the stagecoach in perfect condition.

"I know you tried, Miss. He knew you tried and he thanked you one last time," Ashley says looking up at Lillian with teary eyes and pastiness on her cheeks from the cold shining on her dark shin.

"I'm not crying, maybe a little—I'm just cold, he must be cold under there, lonely," Lillian tears her eyes away from the grave, feeling awkward for not knowing Abbott and his own family and friends, but also awkward because she is used to losing people from her life and patients she takes care of. Being with Ashley, a young girl at fifteen who is kept sheltered from the world for the most part (at fifteen she was in college and worrying over her fainting step-sister Patsy); Lillian tries to keep composure like her mother does: a queenly, self-controlled, dignified look.

She'll never master it just like she'll never master reading every book on the face of this earth. One being there are too many, and two there are some that bore her to death, she has to be honest.

But there is one thing she is confident she'll master over, and this is the plan she's been planning of late with the help of Mr. Sackett, and hushed talk with her father.

As these thoughts had her distracted, Ashley led the woman away from the grave, sloshing delicately through the powdery snow and cold air to return to warm headquarters.

"What are you thinking about, Miss?"

"My plans," she answers simply.

"Plans for what? You want to go back to school?"

Lillian makes a disgruntled face, "Heaven's no, I'm finished with college. I have plans to meet a close friend of mine."

"Define 'close'," Ashley asks suspiciously with a smile.

"Well, not what you're thinking at all, young lady," Lillian answers quickly, giving her a disapproving look for thinking poorly. "He is my friend, a visitor who used to come see me every day before the war began, and you know him rather well. Keeping the dogs and other farm life away from us as we walked by the river."

"Baker?" Ashley's smile disappears instantly. "But he's-"

"I know. I'll explain part of it when we get inside. My father knows my plans so do not stress over it. You have a role in this as well."

"What?"

"Making sure my mother never finds out."

* * *

Baker tucks the letter for Lillian, which he finished writing all night to send off this morning with the mail carrier, in the pocket of his red coat which drapes presently over a kitchen table chair, unaffected by him pushing bowls and plates of old food around, particularly the cold watery stew he had nights previous still sitting there.

He thinks to himself he could just re-heat it over the fire, but a small part of his mind with the knowledge of some cooking skills says it wouldn't be so wise.

Sudden footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway behind him makes him jump, and turn around.

"Oh, Mrs. Woodhull, I didn't know you were coming," Baker speaks.  
"I'm sorry to startle you, Mr. Baker. I thought you were my husband," Mary blinks being surprised as him before noticing him holding a plate, trying to prepare breakfast it seems.

"Would you like me to cook something?"

Baker waves his hands and shook his head once, "Oh, no, no. I couldn't ask that. It's-"  
But he let his arms fall to his sides, feeling helpless watching Mary kneel at the fire and kettle, tossing more logs into it.

"I'd do it for Abraham, but he's not here. I can hazard a guess of where he is, of course. Or who he's with."  
Baker closes his eyes uncomfortably as he quickly reaches for his coat, knowing from the start she would mention that, making a dart for the exit. "Perhaps I should leave."  
"Why? You're the only one who really lives here now."

He stops and turns around, looking down at his feet hearing her drop in tone of gloom.  
"Tell me, Mr. Baker did your parents marry for love or did their parents decide for them?" She asks him, adjusting the pot over the fire.

"I never knew my parents," Baker responds before going into memory long forgotten. "I was told my father was a sailor and my mother… I was raised in an orphanage. I never had the luxury of growing up in a home like this, as your son will. There is love here, Mrs. Woodhull. I know because I know what its absence feels like."

Mary's watered eyes and red ears and cheeks from asking such a personal question left her embarrassed and ashamed when she heard his response.

"I'm sorry for asking-"

"No, it's fine really-"

"No I'm going through a tough time and my mind should still be able to think normally. With an infant son and no father around I'm afraid I've grown too used to it. I never thought I'd go through this," Mary cries silently, but quickly wipes her tears away not wanting to scare Baker out the door.

"But, if I may ask. What of this Lillian you write to often? Are you being forced to marry her or will you-"

"No," he quickly answers. "I'm not marrying her, if I did it'd be for love. Her parents wish for her to love who she loves. She was adopted, and not an only child, so there is some allowing for her to do as she pleases."

"What a lucky woman," Mary sighs, getting up to stir the pot of fresh soup. "That's one reason why I wish to give my son Thomas siblings. No one should be alone, and the more children I have the more likely they can marry for love only."

"No they shouldn't be alone. And you're not alone Mrs. Woodhull, nor is your son. Your husband will return to you with sense and know his wrongness," Baker says lastly as Mary goes to grab a bowl to pour some soup into it with the ladle.

"Thank you, Baker," Mary nods her head, smiling shortly in thankfulness. "Excuse me but I left Thomas upstairs, he might be getting into something being so quiet."

Baker laughs lightly, "True, I'm afraid he may be Mrs. Woodhull."

* * *

Sitting quietly in his area of the house devoted to compiling reports, Benjamin waits for Lillian, facing the entrance of the study with his helmet placed on his lap having come straight from talking with Washington and Sackett.

In speaking of Sackett, he was offering no other information on her plan for going to his hometown filled with redcoats. And this peeved him to no end… along with him following him back to his study when he clearly wants to speak with the lady alone.

"Don't look so crossed, Major, you aren't her father or brother," Sackett pipes in making Ben almost roll his eyes.

"I'm not crossed. I'm the Head of Intelligence, First Handler, just concerned for her going there so suddenly-"

Sackett laughs, "Boy, it's what she signed up for! She's going to-"

The front door opening to the house and two pairs of feet quickly walking in make both of the men quiet.

It wasn't until the door closed and both people pushed back their hoods and Lillian's flushed face was revealed, and a different servant who Ben never learned the name of, but he noted the servant looking uncomfortable being on the receiving end of his emotionless gaze.

"Oh," Lillian looks into the room at the two men who are waiting for her, and Ben stands up with a now worried face. "Ashley you can go, I'll be in a meeting for some time, it appears."

"Yes, Miss," Ashley responds as quick as she walks away.

"You told him?" Lillian asks Sackett once she enters the room and shuts the door behind her.

"No I 'accidentally' heard it, so it seems I was never supposed to know, but I should know," Ben walks over to her, setting his helmet down in his wooden chair.

"Well now you get to hear it as we finalize the plan," she simply says walking past him to his chair, moving his helmet to his desk so she can sit.

This turned his mouth dry, "So I wasn't supposed to know? Please explain to me why-"

"Because I knew you or Caleb would want to go with me as well, no matter the risk to keep me safe. Baker is my friend, my contact in my own little section of the ring as we discussed countless times, I get my information and give it to you. And Baker only knows my face and both my real name and alias, and I am guaranteed safety from him. You, and Caleb, however, aren't, as your hometown people will recognize," she explains with slight shudders of breath from being out in the cold.

Ben nods his head, "But, you're General Washington's daughter."

"They don't know what she looks like," Sackett says self-assuredly. "She is kept hushed by her family, and there aren't as many young lads going after her as you think, at least not anymore, and spreading rumor of her existence. And, not many know Washington adopted mainly the enemy."

"Alright, I believe you," Ben tells Sackett. "But how will she get through?"

"Why don't you just ask me, Major?"

He smirks, looking back to her, "Alright, how will you get through?"

"With Derik, and in case they ask for my papers; signed with the forged Tori 'Kennedy' signature of my uncle, they will surely let me pass. But, since it is a small town as Cpt. Nathan Hale mentioned, they'll just let me through because I know one of the soldiers, a family friend of ours."

During her speaking, Ben sighed at her shivering and went to light the candle on his desk to allow some warmth in the now cold room from the door having been opened only a couple times.

Her hands went to the flame and began rubbing her gloveless hands; pale, dainty fingers and soft skin, Ben watches.

"I suppose it is well thought out," he says looking away to the floor, ignoring her next personal comment.

"Of course it is."

"Now answer, why are you going there to begin with? What are you going to him for?" Ben asks, unintentionally sounding unnerved when he said 'him'.

"My father wants me to convince him to return back here to sanctuary with me, to be a true rebel soldier that we all know he really is. Then, under Sackett's orders, he will be our spy in New York," she answers calmly, quirking an eyebrow slightly at his 'over' concern. "I'm trying to save my friend."

"I see," Ben eventually mumbles. "That- that is actually a very good plan, Lillian."

"Thank you…" she pauses looking over at Sackett who was spluttering coffee on the floor.

"Since when were we all on first name basis? Tallmadge?" Sackett asks Ben pointedly for saying her name informally. "This is why I followed you back, in case things get out of hand."

"Ah-no! We-well-"

"It's been like this since we officially established the ring and promised we'd tell each other everything, because we'd be around each other a lot and corresponding. We'll have to write quickly, so that leaves no time for formalities," Lillian looks up at Ben with big eyes from warming her hands around the small candlelight.

"There's always time for formalities," Mr. Sackett looks at her with a disapproving glare her father would give her, but she was looking at Ben.

She felt a blush glow on her cheeks when he smiled back at her, with a twinkle in his eyes matching the snow falling outside.

"I forgive you," he says making her tilt her head.

"But I didn't-"

"I know what you meant, though. Now you know you always have my ear," he sends her the same knowing look as he goes to pick up his helmet.

 _'Then you came to the right place and opened up to the right person who will help in every way he can,'_ he told her when he burned the letter that was never meant for her and wasn't sent from him.

"So are you done, Major? Or may I say, Ben?" Sackett asks annoyed.

"Yes I am, Nathaniel," Ben casts a glance over his shoulder to Sackett who smirks sarcastically in return. "I'll go tell Derik to ready your coach and horses before I prepare my men to set out on our mission in the morning."

Lillian nods her head in gratitude, "Of course. Thank you, I meant to do that earlier but was distracted by work gone wrong."

Ben stops after he opens the door, but a look from Sackett and a 'witty phrase' made him keep walking out, and shutting the door behind him. As Sackett basically said, 'He made voice of his leave, so he was meant to leave.'

But once again, something was left unsaid with her.

Nothing should be left unsaid as they promised.

Now he'll be wondering what happened in her healing practicing, obviously as she said, it was something 'gone wrong.'

* * *

Lillian stands outside headquarters near the guards in the afternoon of this winter day, watching Derik lift one small case of clothing inside the coach because she isn't planning on staying long in Setauket.

Strong hands clasp her purple cloak-clad shoulders snapping her out of thought, smiling up at her wise father.

"Your mother is in her room sleeping after her after lunch tea. Are you sure you feel safe doing this?" He asks her apprehensively.

"Yes, father. If it means bringing him back to where he belongs, and to help us win, so be it," she answers with a nervous breath, but tone of confidence, making George smile softly.

"I will never forgive myself if something happens to you," he says.

"Nothing will happen to me. You trained me in many things, and one of those is never lose will," she blinks when he wraps his arms around her, but returns his tight warm hug all the same, feeling the eyes of many on them.

"And you still have much more to learn, my young, sweet one. Do not forget all that I have told you in past."

Before she can ask what he meant by that, they break apart, and he walks her, arm and arm, to the coach with Derik already in the driver's seat and clean, finer attire.

"No harm will come to her sir, and we'll ride fast and swiftly," Derik tells his owner with sincere promise.

"I hold you to that promise with all fortitude of my being," George stares at the horseman with the same fortified steely eyes that was in his tone. "I'll see you soon, Lillian."

"See you soon, father," she nods her head with one small, final smile, looking away when the door shuts and the coach begins moving, away from the Continental Camp with only Derik.

...

...

..

.

The entire ride so far, her head was laid back, a hand to her forehead, and the other clutching her stomach at the sick feeling of nerves swelling all throughout her.

"I do have much to learn. Please watch over me, God. Watch over me, this nineteen year old girl," she prays, curling into her cloak more and taking calming breaths, feeling warmth flood all over her and her head clears. A tingle in her toes and fingertips making her heartbeat slower, signifying her prayer was answered. She has to remain calm and pay attention to everywhere. She cannot be discovered, and she cannot let the Culper Ring down. She cannot let her father down.

She cannot be a quitter.

There's no turning back now.

She has to succeed.

She has to prove she is a valuable asset as well.

And so returns the weight of the world on her shoulders where it regularly belongs, and there is no getting rid of it.

"We will be there in the morning, Miss," Derik communicates to her looking through the window behind him briefly, to keep his eyes looking ahead at the road.

"Wonderful, thank you," she smiles to herself, not knowing she is doing this, but it is something she does when she thinks positive while in deep thought.

* * *

 _The next morning…_

The colony of Connecticut was quite pleasant in the spring, and though her trees were not yet filled with broad oak leaves, tiny green buds were already emerging as the 2nd Continental Light Dragoons marched their way through the well-worn postal path. They were at least two leagues from the shore, just having crossed the Saugatuck River an hour before, leaving the town of Westport behind. With marching men, light cavalry, and horses in good spirits, they were making good time and would hopefully reach General Arnold's position by the end of the next day.

Caleb rides past the marching men to catch up to Ben's side, but catching Selah's form walking tiredly, but with squared soldiers, he smirks deciding to see how he is fairing.

As Caleb was riding past the men, however, he's been thinking of Ben, worrying about his well-being and his way of thinking.

Ben needed to relax and despite his attempt to be disinterested in the young Lil' Washington and only interacting with her whenever the opportunity presented itself for military intelligence matters, he knew that his friend was quite curious about the woman. There was only the matter of Ben's reticence towards them on a more personal level; Caleb heard the stories of Ben's fairly wild days during college, and remembered the days that both of them discussed what they found interesting in the opposite sex. Since he had been reunited with Ben in the dragoon unit, he had seen him weighed down by the burdens of his duties and drift further and further away from caring for his own self.

Glancing back towards the rear of the marching unit, he saw the rearguard carefully watching all around them and smiled to himself. He had been a part of the rear guard for the first half of the journey, ensuring that their flanks were not ambushed by any British forces. It had also been his job to also ensure that the men did not dally at Westport after resting for a moment there. Couldn't have the men wander off to saturate their appetites on the tavern wenches, no matter how friendly or beautiful the women were. Then his thoughts drifted back to the Princess.

He suspected that Lil' Washington felt a friendly kinship towards Ben, surprising him that she can be just as closed off as Benny boy, and from her own words that she never had many friends and is 'stroppy' in that area. For he had seen her attempt to disturb Ben more than once whenever he was buried a little too deep – in Caleb's opinion – in his work, even if it is only for intelligence matters on the ring. It was solely for that reason that he teased Ben about Lillian, and about him gazing at the young woman on occasion reminding him of his letter. Caleb nods to himself, it was one of his greatest things he's ever done. But, he'll never admit that to Ben or Lillian because yes, he feels some shame for doing so.

But that's him. That's the man and whaler in him.

"Hey, look at the boy. Army life suiting you, Mr. Strong?" Caleb rides up next to Selah, slowing his horse from a trot to a walk.

Selah smirks, moving his gun which is resting on his left shoulder, "Better since you swiped me a decent pair of boots."

Caleb chuckled at that, proud to be known for his swiping abilities, no matter how he achieves it, and making people pleased in the end.  
"How far is the coast?"

Caleb looks at the man who is looking off to the right, "The coast? Five miles, give or take.  
You thinking of home, Selah?"

"Well, with the men we have here, we outnumber Hewlett's garrison. I say we return there, take back what's ours," Selah responds rather astutely, as if he was thinking over his little plan the whole march.  
"Right, and after we take it, we can stay there till, oh, at least suppertime before the Navy smokes us out," Caleb sarcastically says.  
"It'd be a good meal, though," Selah jokes almost too seriously.

 _He's thinking of his tavern, tavern=wife._  
"Yeah, I'm with you there," Caleb lets out a laugh as he grips the reigns, through with his small talk with the poor man who was imprisoned on the hell ship that the Jersey is. He doesn't know much of what's been happening of late, especially with his wife Anna.

"Fraternizing with the enlisted men?" Ben grins at his friend who drew his horse to keep pace with Ben's.

Caleb returns the grin, before losing it completely, "Not sure he'd be so full of spunk if he knew his wife thinks him dead." Ben let out a silent sigh as the front of his brow gains a headache.

It had been the one topic that both he and Ben had argued quite extensively about when they had not been busy with their other duties. With the Simcoe debacle behind them, he had thought Ben would have learned not to keep secrets, especially ones that were personal to Abe and Anna, anymore. At least he was honest to Lillian about Robert Rogers, but more recently, Ben had vehemently insisted that Selah not be told about Anna's status as a spy and the fact that the Jersey's ledger had one 'Selah Strong' listed as dead.

"I coulda sorted this out if your pal Sackett let me and Culpepper meet up instead of having him stash his letters in the hollow of an old tree," the bearded man explained.

Ben's jaw tightens, but his words come out eloquently, "Sackett's procedures are intended to keep you both safe."  
Caleb looks to his friend in disbelief, pleading, "But these are our friends we're lying to, Ben."

"They're agents. They only know what they need to know. Any more could put them in danger," Ben answered, and in a colder tone than what Caleb had anticipated.

 _'Friends don't lie to each other'_ Lillian Washington's words cut across his mind making his headache grow worse. And Caleb wasn't so far from the same thought of the young Washington. She definitely has strong influence on those around her.  
"Right, so Anna doesn't need to know her husband's still alive," Caleb bit back.  
"This isn't personal, Caleb," his friend said in a slightly warmer tone. "It's a discipline a craft, as Mr.  
Sackett calls it. The more we stick by the rules, the better it will be for all of us."

Despite wanting to call his friend out, instead, he kept his mouth shut as he clenched his jaw in frustration more than anger, watching Ben trot forward to be alone with his own thoughts for a while.

~ _A few hours later…_

Eventually Caleb lost his frustration and calmed himself with the fact Ben will see sense soon enough.

Ben also treaded back to be next to his friend and fellow men in matching attire as he in blue coats, helmets with white plumes looking distinguished and imposing astride their brown horses. Caleb has given it some thought to ditch his regular, worn, whaler/tradesman attire for the nicer uniform he deserves, but he cannot accept it. Not only does he feel more comfortable and can move easier in his loose clothes, but he doesn't see the meaning of dressing for the part, the 'lieutenant' rank given to him.

He glances at his friends tense legs adorned with the tight yellow pants, with his sword strapped tightly to his side. Undoubtedly, he is far more uncomfortable than he is.

"I can't feel my legs anymore. Let alone something else of equal importance," Caleb breathes out with a humorous chuckle.

He watched his friend's eyes light up with the same humor in them from when they were children with a crude sense of humor, but quickly fade back to his current proper decorum he knows all too well.  
"How much further to Ridgefield?" Caleb asks, losing his smile.

"No more than a day." Though the town was about thirty miles away from where they currently were, Connecticut was still littered with unusually large British patrols units and thus he had to take the coastal route up to Stratford, a Patriot-friendly town, rest the men there, and then double back north. They would then curve towards Danbury to bypass the British line that separated the coastal towns from the supply depot and muster point at Ridgefield. It would also allow them to take quick scouting peeks at what the British forces looked like, while giving the enemy forces stationed in the southern part of the colony the impression that Washington was moving troops northwards.

"I sent a scout ahead to alert General Arnold of our arrival."  
"Oh, of course you have," he heard Caleb say, though the tone of his voice gave away that he was not impressed by the initiative and instead, found it quite amusing. "Now look. Don't be injured if Benedict Arnold ain't as excited to meet the famous Benny-boy Tallmadge."

Ben mentally sighed as he said, "I admit, the man impresses. Imagine having your horse shot out from under you, your leg pinned beneath it. Instead of surrendering, to the regular standing above you with a bayonet, you pull his pistol and shoot him dead."

"Yeah," Caleb casually replied, "it sounds like a tale I tell about meself, which tells me, he's taking a bit of license."

Then they see a couple of scouts returning, but they were not alone.

"Company halt!" Ben commanded. The order was repeated down the line "Private," he addressed as the scout halted his horse.

"Caught him hiding in a ditch. Thought he might be a spy," the private answered, "but he said he was from Setauket-"

Looking over at the simply dressed man on the horse, he blinked back his surprise as he recognized the man. It was Mr. Havens, his old schoolteacher. "Let him down," he interrupted, getting off of his own horse as he heard Caleb do the same. Removing his helmet, he placed it on the saddle horn before quickly walking over to where the man was.

As soon as the other scout loosened and untied the ropes around Havens, he helped him down as he exclaimed, "Mr. Havens!"

"Ben," Havens answered, engulfing him in a hearty, back-slapping hug.

Laughing with relief and joy and seeing an old friend and mentor, he let go and stepped back, allowing Caleb to come forward as he heard his friend say, "Well, look at you. What brings you to Connecticut?"

"A bloody-back named Simcoe," Havens answered. Smiles and delight died on all three men's expressions as Havens continued to say, "Ever since he returned to Setauket, he's had it in for us Whigs." The schoolteacher paused for a moment before saying, "Your father's been arrested, Ben."

"My father?" he questioned, managing to keep most of the shock from his voice.

"Aye, and Lucas Brewster too."

"Your father, my uncle," Caleb said, turning towards Ben, "that's quite the coincidence."

"On what grounds could he have been arrested?"

"Conspiracy," Havens said, looking at both of them. "I left town to cheat the hangman. I doubt the rest will be so lucky."

As Ben gave a pat of thanks and reassurance to his old schoolteacher, he turned and headed back towards the horses – a plan forming in his mind. "How many whaleboats could you round up?" he quietly asked Caleb, who had immediately followed him.

"What do you mean?" his friend questioned, looking surprised and puzzled at the same time. "To carry all of this lot?"

"Aye," he answered.

"We're going home?"

"We're going home," he confirmed.

 **A/N: *clears throat and blinks* Wow. This chapter was a monster to write. Lillian is heading for Setauket with no intention on eventually seeing Ben and Caleb. That reunion will be something... Especially since Ben hasn't told Caleb she left for their hometown prior to their leaving. Angry Caleb coming your way. *sigh* So many secrets, lies... *cough* eventual betrayal *cough* And it'll keep continuing. I hear some cheers for that in the distance lol. Thank you all for sticking with me, the next chapter will be posted soon. Thank you Guest for reviewing! Loved your review it made my day. And thank you to all those who followed and favorited! More your way soon, stay tuned!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	17. Chapter 17: Battle of Setauket pt1

**Chapter 17:**

 _Previously_

 _"How many whaleboats could you round up?" Ben quietly asked Caleb, who had immediately followed him._

 _"What do you mean?" his friend questioned, looking surprised and puzzled at the same time. "To carry all of this lot?"_

 _"Aye," he answered._

 _"We're going home?"_

 _"We're going home," he confirmed._

 ** _Earlier that day_**

White clothes, ranging from a man and woman's to an infant's on the linen line in the outskirts of Setauket. Cabbage farmland extends across the land towards a distant tree line.

Lillian made it to the little town as quickly and swiftly as Derik promised; taking a route he knew would not have many redcoats around, but only traveling salesmen and other busy, hurrying travelers.

They were lucky, perhaps. Lucky this time.

And lucky when the British soldiers guarding all entrances to Setauket spotted them and the two officers closest to them asked what their business was being here, and for papers.

She merely answered after Derik's explaining that she was visiting a family friend as she handed them the papers with her uncles forged signature.

They asked for the soldier's name. She provided it.

Then, they nodded without any further hesitation and allowed them in after Derik asked for directions to the quartered soldier's home.

Now, Derik raps the door with his knuckles, and just as he sets his arm to his side, the door is answered by a young, lovely woman.

"Hello, how may I help you?" The woman asks the dark man and the beautiful chestnut haired lady beside him.

Derik responds, "I escorted my lady here, Miss Lillian Kennedy, to your home to visit a dear friend of hers, Ensign Baker quartered at your home."

"Oh, yes!" The woman opens the door wider. "Mr. Baker speaks of you. Please come in Miss Lillian, I'm Mary Woodhull. I apologize the house is a mess, it's been busy here now that the soldiers are enforcing the law more strictly, and my husband has been... gone with work of that nature leaving only me with my son," Mary tells them, opening her door wider. "Please come in, you're welcomed to come in as well…"

"Derik, ma'am," Derik responds. "Thank you, but I mustn't intrude, and I need to move the horses out the way…"

"Yes, right around the corner is fine," she watches the dark man return back to the carriage to get out a small case of luggage.

 **Lillian's POV**

At the name Mary I thought of my horrible acquaintance Mary, who I had tea with. Not the same Mary, fortunately. This Mary before me is much nicer and welcoming, and treated slaves with respect and equal kindness, at least from what I could tell right now.

And Woodhull. _Woodhull._ She is Culper's wife! Abe's wife, more correctly. Oh the coincidence, Baker is at our agent's home. They are all living together and they don't even know it.

I smile back at Mary as I step into the warm home, masking my look of surprise and deep thinking by the hardest; thankfully the house is somewhat dark on the inside with only a fireplace going. My eyes immediately adjust to the welcoming home, reminding me of my old home, with my real parents. It was small, a smaller plantation manor style, but just enough.

"Thank you Mrs. Woodhull. I apologize for intruding, I came without warning to both Baker and you, but it was last minute planning," I inform the woman.

She shakes her head, "Oh no, It's fine, you're not intruding at all! Everyone is welcomed here, even friends of our quartered soldier who is a gentleman. I know Baker will be pleased to see you."

 _Why did she have to say that he is a gentleman?_

"Really?" I ask, tilting my head just slightly.

"Oh yes, I noticed him writing one day when he was off on holiday due to the cold beginning of winter. He wasn't coming downstairs like he normally does, so I went to check on him, and he was sitting at the window, smiling at a letter. That was the first time he spoke of you to me, very tentative at first."

"He was always one of those silent types of people, and very poetic staring out of windows inspiringly," I laugh a little thinking of my friend. "And was secretive of me."

"Yes, quiet but a gentleman. I never knew he was poetic, how romantic it must be to have someone write to you as he does. He let me read one letter to approve of it, poor man, he was self-conscious over something that wasn't to be self-conscious about," Mary admits timidly, flustered for being so open. "I normally don't talk this much, my apologies. Young romance is one of my favorite topics of discussion."

"It's alright!" I smile taking off my cloak now that I warmed up some more. I wanted to comment on Mary's use of the word 'romantic,' but I let it go for now. I hand my cloak to Mary who hangs it on a coat rack, and the woman leads me to the kitchen table to sit and talk. "It's good to talk."

I watch Derik travel upstairs in the direction Mary told him to go with my small case of luggage.

"It is," She smiles. "I don't speak to women all the time here, because life here has me busy, raising my infant son who I'll be returning to soon. I'm not living here for the moment, you see, we only have one fireplace down here, and we all lived by it. My father-in law is the Magistrate of the town and his house is more accommodating until spring officially arrives."

 _She is hiding more than she let on._

"That's wonderful you have family close by, and he has more warmth there for your son. What is your son's name?"

"Thomas," she smiles.

"I always loved that name," I say truthfully.

"Me too," Mary looks down at her hands, frowning slightly. "I'm- I'm not sure if rumor spreads to where you're from, but the town is in commotion. They are on a political witch hunt to weed out rebel conspirators."

"Oh, my," I feel all breath escape me, fear gripping my patriot heart. "Have they captured anyone yet?"

"They arrested many, but there is a ton of debate going on now at the church, where my husband is, he is the son of the Magistrate. This morning everyone surrendered their guns, the gallows were erected and my husband offered to be the magistrate in the rebels' prosecution."

"Where is the Magistrate?"

"He was shot. I need to be getting back over to Whitehall now to look after him. I would bring you over there, but he is not expecting or wanting any surprise visitors right now-"

 _British soldiers must be there, guarding the Magistrate. A perfect place to find out things…_

"What about a doctor? I mean, nurse. I am a nurse," I shut my eyes at stumbling over my words.

Mary takes in my appearance, a little hesitant, understandable. A stranger coming in for a visit out of nowhere; at least Baker mentioned me before.

"How can you be a nurse?"

"I went to college; it was my uncle's wish to learn a higher trade. I know it's rare to hear that a woman went to school—"

"No it isn't, that's fascinating. And you are a Kennedy, they are very aristocratic. I'm just surprised, that's all," Mary remarks kindly. My teeth clench at the word aristocratic. My aunt is the one who is snobbish and uppity while my uncle, my real father's brother, approves of me but he has his reservations and own quirks.

"Mrs. Woodhull, my help is free during time of war, is there anything I can do?"

She smiles, "Oh no, it's all well we have a doctor over there now, the bullet was removed by the hardest but— he is recovering well."

"I'm pleased to hear it. Hopefully he'll be able to join his son back at the church soon," I say, thinking about our _Culper_. He seems to have a lot of mess on his hands.

I'm beginning to wonder if he had a hand in causing it.

"So, Baker. He'll be back by this evening, nightfall the latest. He will probably be late tonight due to all the chaos. I'll let you sleep in me and my husband's room since our guest one is taken," Mary advises me hospitably, as she goes to stand and put her cloak back on. "I'll come check on you tomorrow if that is alright?"

"Yes, that's alright, thank you, again, Mrs. Woodhull," I tell her thankfully. "Let me know if you need anything."

"I will, thank you," she smiles, opening the door and walking out, shutting it behind her.

"Oh my word," I breathe out, collapsing into my hands, elbows now propped up on the table. "I'm here at a bad time, Baker didn't tell me all this—I'll give him a surprise now."

* * *

~ _Later that night_

After draining the tub of cloudy water, disgusting Lillian to no end that she went three days without a bath, she opens the bathroom door to exit, and in comes a figure stopping abruptly to not run into her. She gripped the doorknob in order to shut the door, and clutched her nightgown around her front in attempt to cover herself up more.

She first saw his red, gold buttoned coat; half hanging off of him meaning he was taking it off, white wig perfect in place atop his head and his tricorn hat is in his hand.

Her eyes finally meet his, startled as much as he is, more of by his entrance. He is startled by seeing a woman in his bathroom. The woman he hasn't seen in forever before him.

"Miss Lillian!" he exhales in his deep voice and British accent breaking the silence, still too stunned to continue, hands reaching for the wooden door frame not knowing what to do with his hands. But his eyes stayed on her fearing she'd disappear, unfazed by her nightdress for the moment.

She doesn't speak, suddenly very nervous and worried, eyeing his sharp bayonet strapped to his back, and sword and pistol at his hip. Her nerves are turning cold and she feels a panic attack coming on with her throat drying up like a wheat field in the summer. When he barged in, he looked like the typical British officer: stoic, expressionless with nothing but order and law written in his eyes, unfriendliness. But when he saw her, barging through the door and alarming her, the said expression began to drop little by little, replacing it with sentiment flowing off of him in waves, the real Albert Baker.

He knew he could drop his guard around her.

"Hey, Alby," she tries a small smile, hands shaking lightly, but he looks hesitant to return the gesticulation with his own mouth. "Surprise."

"No—w- I-what are you doing here?" He shrugs his redcoat back on, causing his bayonet to shift in the process and hitting the doorframe making her jump. "It isn't safe, even in this home they are loyalists," He says fearfully. "They shouldn't know who you are, they shouldn't even see you."

"They don't know who I am, truly!" Her eyes dart to outside the bathroom, seeing no one there, and she pulls him inside and shuts the door quietly. "Not yet anyway if you don't keep quiet. I'm here to see you."

He sighs, setting his hat on the hook, and waves his hands, "No one is here but Mrs. Woodhull preparing some food. More food than necessary, now I know why. Well, I'm here. All in one piece as I promised."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Now what did you mean by it isn't even safe _here_? Other than them being loyalists?" She asks him. "Mrs. Woodhull has been nothing but kind to me. I never met her husband yet but I'm sure he is a good man." _He is playing on both sides, helping us win this war. A great man he is. She knows of Abraham, Samuel Culper, but she won't reveal this just yet._

"She is extremely kind and welcoming. And he is a good man, and a wonderful father," Baker smiles for the first time after not seeing his friend for so long, or was it that he talked about his billeted home family he grew fond of? But a disgruntled face went to his face when he mentioned Abe himself. "But they are loyalists, Lillian, which should be enough reason. This whole town is and you're in the heart of it! Mr. Woodhull swore oath that he is a loyalist."

She already knew that much. "I'm in the outskirts from what my escort Derik told me, remember him?"

"Yes."

"And Mary told me I should be safe from the chaos that is going on, finding rebel conspirators. I offered help at Whitehall to assist the Magistrate and his wounds, but she said it wasn't necess-"

His face paled, "No. No you did not just—you did not just say that, please tell me you didn't meet him."

"The Magistrate? No, not yet anyway. I plan on somehow getting there to find any information on the British."

"No," he shakes his head incredulously, eyes still staying locked on hers. "This is not good for you. He will be the first to figure out who you are of Mary tells him. He may figure me out!"

"Oh you'll be fine, look at you! And no he can't, not every man in the world has seen me! Not once have I met British officers, other than you. Why do people make that assumption? Am I that prominent of a figure?" She tries very hard to keep her bothered tone down.

His hands go to her shoulders and shake her lightly out of disbelief, "Yes! They may not have seen you, but any description from a rebel who has met you, taken as prisoner by our men wallowing in misery, they can paint you in their minds. And your loyalist neighbors if I remember correctly can be communicating with us redcoats about you."

"Well then. Their imagination must be terrible because no one confronted me, ever," she says with a smirk, calming him down immensely. "And my neighbors aren't that brave to speak their minds. This is a small seaside town. I doubt anyone will recognize me, maybe Mr. Woodhull."

"Are you trying to dig me an early grave?" Baker hisses as his eyes widen once more, but silences hearing the door slam shut downstairs, and Lilly looks at the closed door, and listening hard with her right ear at what is being said.

"A soldier came to get Mrs. Woodhull," Baker says recognizing the light rumble of a man voicing an order for her to return. Waiting for it to grow quiet downstairs, and eventually hearing the door shut, he continued speaking.

"As I was saying, Abraham Woodhull is the Magistrate's son. If Abraham knows who you really are, he'll not only tell his father but have you arrested!" He tensely says.

"I won't be arrested if I'm not found out. Anyway, I'm here for you, to sneak you out with a plan I came up with all on my own," she tells him with some enthusiasm to lighten the mood.

"You're not making this any better. Whatever happened to communicating through our little method? Are my letters coming through? Do you believe me?" He questions with gritted teeth. Lilly blinks at his questioning, and backs away slightly intimidated at his sudden discontent.

"Of course I receive them," she mumbles, watching a hand go to his forehead to rub it. "Not lately though because I've been at my father's camp, finally seeing him after years. And I believe you, you're my friend."

He sighs, "Just- just go to the room Mrs. Woodhull gave you, we'll speak more thoroughly after I regroup from my day of protecting these people," he began shrugging off his coat and Lilly quickly went to the door, realizing they were still in the bathroom and she was in her nightgown. Poor man, she was keeping him from his bath and rest. So maybe he didn't mean his temper towards her?

"Yes of course! Sorry!" Lilly blushes madly, dropping her eyes to the floor, and leaves the bathroom as quick as he shut the door behind her.

* * *

She was sitting on the blue and white embroidered bed, feet dangling off the edge touching the wood floor, and facing the closed window in deep thought and trying to calm herself down.

"I can do this. I can do this, breathe," she whispers under her breath to herself.

"I'm sorry I raised my voice at you, and spoke to you in such a manner," Baker's contrite tone breaks her thoughts, and she turns around briskly, seeing him in his neat white wig, a big contrast to his dark eyebrows and now dark blue eyes in the candlelight, adorned in a fresh pair of white trousers from his uniform and white undershirt. His muscular arms caught her sights instantly bulging from underneath the thin white over shirt.

"It was wrong."

She shakes her head, moving her eyes quickly back to his, "It's fine, there's nothing to apologize for. I am wrong too for startling you, coming without notice. It was a last minute decision, and an emergency."

"What kind of emergency? Are you alright?" He crosses the floor but no before shutting the door so no one will hear in case someone will happen to be in the house.

"I'm fine, now that I can see you with my own eyes, and see you are still with me," she starts.

"I knew you doubted me, from the start," he nods his head once.

Lilly stands up, and goes near the foot of the bed, "How could I not? We already spoke of this in our writing. I still doubt you, but I came to clear that up, or try to. I also came here because my father sent me—" she shivered at the sudden draft she felt through the floorboards. There was no fireplace in here, only downstairs. How could this house still be standing in this cold? She immediately thanked God above for her perfect accommodating home at Mt. Vernon.

Baker noticed quickly, so he grabbed a blanket from a cedar chest and he comes to wrap it around her, "Here, my blanket is made of the warmest fabric, courtesy of Mrs. Woodhull."

"Your blanket?"

"Yes, I have other belongings other than my uniform and weapons," he points to a journal on the nightstand and stacks of papers on a cartable writing desk.

Lilly blinks rapidly, "I'm in your room, oh—I thought this was the room Mary told me to go to—oh she said left of the staircase!"

Baker laughs lightly, and she looks up at him stunned, and suddenly calm. _This was the Baker she knew and loved._

"It's alright. Probably best we're in here so no one will disturb us."

She raises a brow at this.

He clears his throat, "I- I mean that- that-that since you are a guest here, a guest (he emphasized), you may be checked up on more and I- they may be watching you with a close eye, well Mrs. Woodhull. When they are both here they don't check on me if I'm in my quarters, so we can talk about our secret lives as much as we want," he explains, and she nods understandingly. "Now, your father sent you?"

"Yes. He offered you sanctuary in his camp," She begins once more, this time with a smile.

"Sanctuary?" He asks out of disbelief. "You make it sound as if I'm living in a wretched miserable place."

"You are," she honestly says, smile dropping instantly, and he is silent with judging eyes. "Well I'm sure it's a lovely town without the redcoats everywhere. I only want you safe, on the side you truly belong with."

He steps closer to her, to make his next statement clear, "You know nothing of what goes on this side of the war. This is my sanctuary if I value my own life because even if I wanted to go back with you, I can't, for many other reasons as well."

"Tell me those reasons, let me help," she clutches his blanket around her tightly. Feeling a twinge of hurt at his words, thinking she is one of those reasons in a bad light.

"You have a big heart, Lillian. That is one of the reasons."

And she thought correctly.

His next actions made her gasp, as his hand ghosts around her waist, and he raises his hand, his fingers settling at her jawbone as he cups her face.

"Alby?"

He says nothing, but looks at her face solemnly.

"Baker," Lilly reaches for his face, and when he feels the contact he slowly blinks his blue eyes, surface shining with loyalist but deep in there is patriotism, she can see it.

"Love me or hate me, both are in my favor… If you love me, I'll always be in your heart… If you hate me, I'll always be in your mind…"

She stares at him blankly, "I, I don't know what to say."

He smiles lightly, "Just relish Shakespeare's words, and forgive me. Forgive me for ever leaving you and breaking your heart."

His hand finally touches her waist making her tremble at his contained strength. Or is it a tremble of fear?

"I tried to leave to return home to you, but I was caught and given warning, one flog on my back. I was flogged another time because I let a Rebel get away, more floggings for that one. I was trying to convince him to take me with him as prisoner to your father but he wouldn't buy it. I didn't mention you though in case he wasn't a true rebel, but he was. He acted like it. I will never be accepted where you are now. Only here am I."

"Baker," she cries. "You- you never told me in your letters! You didn't deserve that, any of this! We have a plan. Come with me when I leave, first thing in the morning, you'll be an escort. They think I'm loyalist, why would a patriot come here?"

"I- I can't! I want to leave this place but I am stuck here and partially I want to be here, I need to be here if it is to keep this family I grew fond of safe and to do my father proud-

"He isn't your father! He never was! He took you in from that orphanage because he saw potential in you, to make money off of you. I don't want to see you be used that way," she breaks out of his hold easily, walking towards the window. "You're a grown man for heaven's sake, be one and leave him behind- leave this horrid army- forget him-"

"You don't think I tried?! And never insult the King's militia!" He raises his voice. "I know who I am-"

"-Why did you leave me in the first place?!"

He silences, and both of their eyes are wide, stunned from having raised their voices at one another.

"You did not come here because of your father. You did not come here to become a better man, _for me_. You know you are a good man. I always saw you as one and you know this. Did you think it amusing to break my heart? Or are you truly a loyalist?" She asks him with a broken voice from crying. "Quit beating around the bush and tell me now!"

"I am torn," he answers honestly, his own eyes watering at seeing her this way, and hearing her raised voice. "I wish I had a better answer."

"I wish you did too," she rebukes with decided eyes.

"Please don't look at me that way!" He pleads with hurt and frustration. "I'm only doing what is best for this country, and it is to keep it in order and you alive. From the way it's looking the Patriots won't last. General Howe is acting on his own accord, maybe being ill-informed."

"I can't believe I'm in the same room as you. Talk about being ill-informed. I'm leaving-" his hand gripped her upper arm and she held back a light scream, feeling the blanket fall at her feet, and her eyes looked terrified up into his.

"Lillian I would never hurt you, and no I never meant to break your heart, it is not amusing in the slightest. You almost screamed just then, didn't you?" His voice barely above a whisper. "I am torn. I was pure patriot in the beginning, but after a run-in with my father, it was beaten into me to be this poor excuse of a soldier! Now all that is destined for me now is earning my way up in rank. All I am is being beaten up and confused. But I am still myself, or else I'd gone crazy and would be dead now, and I wouldn't have got to see you."

She shuts her eyes, shaking her head and taking his hand off her arm. "How could you still be yourself? You say you are confused—How are you putting up with all of this?"

"I should be asking you the same. You went through a rough life just as I, and we both still are," he says making her silent, and tears fall down her face. "I remember the happier, warmer days I spent with you, holding your hands, holding you close by my side, when neither of us had worries. You told me everything happens for a reason. This is one of those things and life changed. It'll all work out in time."

She stares at the floor, arms folded in front of her to spare the dignity she has left.

"I'm loyalist for this war, but whichever the outcome may be: if redcoats win you'll have me, and we'll be safe along with your family. If Patriots win, I have you—

"Loyalist, you're an actual loyalist. You just said so," she points out.

He doesn't move a muscle, and his mouth barely even twitches as he mumbles, "Yes."

"You're using me? You just want the easy way out—"

"No!" He shouts pulling her close. "No, I'm not using you. I'm securing _our_ future. It's not the way it sounds."

"Lillian, I'm sorry," he says with a tear escaping out one of his eyes now, feeling the pain he's been feeling for the longest time finally come forward, and watching Lillian weep in front of him. He felt frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. He did know he wouldn't run out like he did with Mrs. Woodhull when he told her of her husband's actions with Mrs. Strong.

"You don't have to say anything. Only know I would never hurt you, because I love you so, I confess. I must know."

Her eyes blinked, hardly registering him stepping closer to her, and he took her face in his hands and leaned in to kiss her gently. She shook with tears when his lips met hers, merely grazing them.

When she didn't kiss back, he pulled away, and she exhaled a shaking breath from crying.

"Why did you do that?"

"I had to know. It was long overdue," he answers biting his lower lip.

She reaches for his face, her hand went behind his neck to grip his wig, and she took it off, letting it drop to the floor to reveal his shaved short, ebony dark hair.

"I can't take you seriously in that wig." She then pulls his face down towards her, and she kisses him just as gently finding herself not reciprocating his love. Yet, a small part in her, almost primal, enjoyed this kiss to no end, heating up her lower stomach. _It's what my old self wants…_ _I never kissed anyone in my life! Now I finally know what it feels like, kissing a man on the lips._

Lilly's thoughts then strayed to a certain Major in a cobalt blue coat and tight blond pants, staring down at her from above like a guardian angel, reaching for her with a determined and fearful face, jaw tight and hand gripping the pistol in his gun holster.

She tears away, gripping his neck, "I also can't take you seriously, anymore. Whatever you are, I can't take any of it anymore. And for your information, there will be no future with redcoats in it. They will be the ruin of us all, and the greater ruin of you."

"Lillian," Baker frowns. "It's not ruining me, I assure you."

 _Assure me my ass_ is what Caleb would say, which is what she thinks currently. Now she feels upset for not telling the man she was leaving.

"From what you're… replicating in your tone and mannerisms, you don't—this doesn't feel the same as it was before," Baker says dejected.

"No it doesn't," she agrees. "Because I don't love you as I once did."

The silence after her last word said made the whole world distant. It could have exploded into oblivion and they'd still be standing there in place, unmoving, locked on each other's eyes.

"I'm not using you-"  
"I know," she puts a hand to her forehead now. "I know what you meant now."

"But what is it? What is the main thing I've done to not have your love in return? Why?"

"I don't have reassurance from you," she speaks slowly, realizing what it is when she tells him. "Guarantee, support, comfort. My trust in you kept falling and building back up again. Those letters on intelligence are the only little reassurance I got from you but it is only so lasting. Doubt seeps in, hurt, and confusion. I hate being confused, you make me confused Baker. To the point I don't even know anymore."

He was silent but slowly nodded his head.

"Are you sure you aren't just fond of me? Love me as a friend?"

"I wouldn't have taken lashings on my back if I didn't love you. To be by your side," he says with a firm frown and stony face.

She chokes a cry once more, at his words of truth and an unfeeling face, before she turns and successfully rushes out his room, throwing open the door letting it hit the wall going straight to her quarters.

If she turned back, his stony face dropped the moment she turned away to instant regret at such an expression.

"Stupid, stupid man," he shakes his head, kicking his bedpost knocking it out of place causing his bed to tilt to the side.

 **Lillian's POV**

I race into the other room, Mary and Abe's master suite, and shut the door behind me, locking it securely as I slide down to the floor in sobs, speaking unintelligibly.

"He—He really broke my heart this time father," I cry out, picturing my father with me, holding me in his lap like he did years back. "I should've known better than to trust him! I should have trusted your judgement on this! You—you- you're always right!"

Then a surge of energy races through me, touching my lips where Baker kissed me.

I stand up brashly and go to the bed and throw a pillow across the room in anger.

"Why are you doing this to me!" I shout up at the ceiling towards the sky, falling into the big bed back first. "Taking people in and out my life every time I glance their way!"

"I need a sign. Any sign that you are watching out for me, Lord," I pray, wiping the hot tears off my cheeks. "What will I tell Ben and Caleb… and Mr. Sackett. My father…"

I sigh, rolling out of bed, going to pick up the pillow I threw, and unlock the door.

"If there's anything you taught me well, mother and father, it's to always keep your door unlocked in case of emergency," I say, dusting the pillow off.

 _Patsy_. If her door was locked we wouldn't have been able to get to her.

During her calming down, Lillian fell asleep above the covers, and didn't hear the light tap on the door.

Soft steps of bare feet enter, and the person casts a glance to the bed where the guest is sleeping.

Quietly, the person goes to the floor to remove a wooden floorboard, and take out a book.

Securing it against her chest, she closes the floorboard and hurries out watching the woman move in the bed.

Not paying mind she didn't close the floorboard all the way where a pistol is also rested in it.

* * *

~ _Downstairs_

…

..

.

By the crackling fire, Mary sits on a chair near the wooden crib her son is in, casting glances at his mother every so often.

Reading aloud, she can barely believe her eyes as she holds a candle close to the paper to read the tiny script.

"729… Setauket. 711… Gen. Washington," she whispers, eyes fixated on that one name. The one name she was taught to despise.

Looking down the list further, she reads aloud once more in utter shock, "725… C. Brewster."

Perhaps it was the flicker of the flames or the tiredness of her eyes reading the script, but a very familiar name was spotted in the bottom corner, added extra by her husband—recognizing his handwriting she knows all too well.

"0… Lillian Kennedy."

Hearing movement outside, she shuts the book, and watches her husband through the corner of the window, walking to the front door.

She quickly hides the book under a cushion, and goes to the front of the house, watching her husband take his hat off and put it on the table.

"You send Luke and Jeremiah to Whitehall?" He asks curiously.

"Aberdeen needed extra hands. She's attending to your father's health and doesn't have time for the house."

"I found another slave in their home, I don't recognize him," he voices. "Is he a guest?"

"Yes he is. The actual guest is asleep upstairs, came to visit Baker."

"Ah," Abe nods, resting his hands on his sides tiredly. "Wait I thought you were attending to my father."  
"His wish was that I returned here. I'm sorry if that upsets you," she responds once more impassively.

"What do you mean? Mary, what's wrong?" Abe begs.

"I'm afraid."  
"Of what?"

"You know," her breath shudders. "The traitors here in Setauket, hiding in secret, plotting to kill us. The men who shot your father."  
He holds up a finger, stepping closer to her to whisper, "Now listen to me. I'm gonna tell you something that you can't repeat to anyone else, and I mean it this time. If you whisper this like you did the gravestones, there will be a price to pay for both of us."

She listens intently, biting her upper lip.  
"Captain Simcoe shot my father."  
She shakes her head, "What?"

"He used an accomplice," Abe quickly explains. "Not sure who it was. I don't think he cared if my father lived or died, just as long as he hanged a Tallmadge for it."  
"This is wrong," she shuts her eyes and shakes her head once more.  
"Well, Mary, it's the truth, so-"

"What about the petition that Tallmadge and the others signed? The one that you prosecuted them for?" Mary asks.

"All the petition says is that they believe in liberty. I took the case on with the aim to prove that."  
"You lied to everyone!"

"Didn't you just hear what I-" Abe stops himself from raising his voice to her, knowing she won't hear his side further. "Fine. That's just fine, then. Now that—no, now that you know, you can go make it right. No, go tell Hewlett. Go and get that ruling reversed so you can see all of those men hanged."  
"I wouldn't do that," Mary cries, dropping an arm to her side.  
"No, of course you wouldn't because then you'd be the wife of a _traitor_ ," Abe rebukes.  
"And you would be hanged for _treason_ ," Mary bites back.  
He rolls his eyes, hands back on his hips, "Treason? Pfft, is that truly how you see it?"

"Yes, that's the law."  
"And is that what you believe? Huh? Tell me. Tell me what you believe in," He pleads.  
She breaks down in tears, "I believe in family! I believe that a husband should live with his wife, should lay with his wife if he's able to, and if he's not, then be truthful about why."  
"You don't think that I'm able?"

"Well, I haven't had any proof since the winter. I assume you've been proving it elsewhere.  
Just another thing that you've been hiding," she pushes past him, but he grips her hand in his.  
"You want proof?"

"I wouldn't want to force you. You might not believe in it," She is silenced with a kiss.  
"Are you sure you don't want to drink something first?"

The answer from him was ripping off her nightgown, tearing the fabric loudly, and carrying her upstairs hurriedly to the nearest room, the guest room.

"This is Baker's bed," Mary exclaims, remembering the man leaving back for a night patrol, when she falls back on the bed and her husband falls on top of her undoing his belt.  
"This is my house."  
"Prove it."

Unbeknownst to Mary, and her husband, their guest was listening to their conversation from the thin walls of her room of stay, and the door may have been cracked open for some time until she heard footsteps up the stairs and she shut the door quietly.

She is repulsed by Abraham. _He cheated on his wife with another! Who knows how many he cheated with…_

"This is who we have in charge of our ring's survival, bravo," she mumbles to herself before returning to her bed, now grossed out hearing the sound of the married couple moaning… and the headboard hitting the wall…

She thinks Baker and she could have ended up that way, if she continued kissing him, if she loved him.

She grimaces, revolted at that thought.

She has her priorities, and that is returning back to the camp alive, and telling Ben and Caleb what transpired here. But definitely keeping out what happens the next morning…

 **A/N: Had to stop it somewhere, this was getting to be a verrrrrrryyyyy long chapter. The Battle of Setauket being the final episode of Season 1 was pretty long because of that. But good news is we are almost to Season 2! YAY! Poor Baker and Lillian, they couldn't work it out. Baker is a 'stupid, stupid man', I'm sorry to say, but he was still one of my favorite characters because he had his good moments. So Lillian isn't too fond of Abe... Maybe she'll warm up to him the next chapter, that is, until we find out what happens in the morning... Stay tuned, and there may be some Ben and Lilly fluff coming your way ;)**

 **Thank you!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	18. Chapter 18: Battle of Setauket pt2

**Chapter 18:**

"Oh!" Abe shouts shutting the front door seeing a strange woman in his house. He grabs a napkin from the table to hide his lower extremities before gaining some more sense to grab a cloak to wrap around him.

"Interesting, you grabbed the napkin before the cloak, the bigger cover-up," Lillian said much to her surprise. "Do you always get your best ideas second or last?"

He shakes his head, smirking, red-faced, "I'm so sorry, but who are you? My wife mentioned we had a guest, but she failed to tell me it was a woman."

She takes out the code book she found discarded under a seat cushion she sat on this morning, and watches Abe's eyes widen.

"Miss—"

"I believe, according to this code book, I am number 0. That kind of.. hurts. Why zero?"

He gapes, "No—You're- you're her?"

"Miss Lillian Kennedy…" she smiles, before adding in a whisper, "Well, Washington. At your service, Mr. Culpeper."

"It's Culper. They sent you out here? Are they mad!" Abe shouts stepping closer to the young woman. "Do you know where you are?"

"Baker told me such last night before he left. He left out that he had so many duties at different shifts," she assures him. "I came by my own accord and a partial order from my father."

He breathes out a laugh, "A partial order? Alright, I'll cut you come slack for that phrase. But I would like to know how you and Baker know each other. He is a loyalist."

"Of course, but first, allow me to cut you some slacks to put on first, this is very improper. And your wife and son are waiting for you," she voices uncomfortably seeing his bare legs underneath the cloak. Her cheeks must be red hot, but not as bad as his.

"Ah! Right, I'm so sorry! Let's not speak of this to anyone," Abe says running to the stairs to go put some pants on.

Her lips press together, "I wouldn't dare," as she goes to grab another piece of bacon Mary left for her to eat, humming to herself, and wondering how Abe managed to befriend Ben and Caleb… Or how Ben and Caleb are still friends with him after all this time.

"Tell me now, before we go," Abe runs back down the stairs, fully clothed; only tying back his hair now.

"We?"

"I'm not leaving you here alone with all the searches going on. With me, you'll be trusted," Abe clarifies.

 _I have a hard time believing that,_ she wants to say.

"Very well, but Derik comes. He is just as part of this as I am, he cannot be caught for something I'm involved in. Also he is my guard."

"Yes of course, he can come."

* * *

~ _Meanwhile, in the tree line of Setauket._

Sleep eluded most of those within the dragoons, but there were barely any signs of fatigue among them. As the first rays of the spring sun rose over the horizon, Ben heard the soft footsteps of Caleb approach.

"Sun's up," his friend states crouching beside him.

"Not yet," he answers, holding up his hand to prevent his men from moving forward before the order had been given.

"Ben, sun's up and we still outnumber Hewlett, even with this lot," Caleb states, frustration and desperation lacing his tone.

"All right," he said, knowing that it was futile to stay here, not when the men were rearing for action. Before he could give any further orders, they heard a bird-like whistle issue from the trees above them, causing the entire unit to crouch down in the dead grass and leaves.

Before they had left Morristown, he had made sure that all members of the 2nd Continentals were thoroughly drilled in animal signal calls. He had learned that signal calls such as that had been commonly used by natives during the Seven Years War and that Ranger units also used that type of call .The irony that he was using something that perhaps Robert Rogers had trained his own men to use was not lost on him, but he knew an advantage when he saw one.

Raising his spyglass, he peered into it and saw two civilians. "That's William Blaine and his son, Tom," he murmured. They were carrying fishing rods, and from where they were, they seemed to have spotted something approaching the coast. Turning with the spyglass towards the water, he saw three whaling boats full of people, with Selah's boat in the lead, and groaned.

Even without a spyglass, Caleb had also spotted the approaching boats and heavily sighed, saying, "Now they come."

Placing the spyglass down, he glanced over towards him, hearing the familiar faint sound of a tomahawk being flipped in hand. Alarm surged through him as he said, "He's only a boy, Caleb! Those are fishing rods, not muskets!"

"Getting soft, are we?" he heard his friend challenge in a tone that he did not like, a mischievous smirk lopsided just like his hat.

"What?! Caleb!" Pounding the dirt with a fist as he hissed at his friend, he watched as Caleb tackled William.

"Hi Bill," Caleb smiles down at the man in attempts to appear friendly, but punches the man in the face who began shouting to his young son to run.

And the boy ran, jumped onto a horse, and bolted off so quickly the men didn't grasp it til last minute.

"He's getting away!"

"Fire!"

Shots rang out and flew past the boy riding off, missing him by centimeters.

Ben, stunned by his men shooting without order, stood up exasperated, "No! Hold fire! Hold your fire!"

"Parsons," he orders over at the men who fired. "Wait until they beach, then fall in. You take the north hill, we'll take the flank.

"Will do sir," Parsons responds.

"We march!" Ben orders lastly, raising his sword once, and the men stand and follow their Major hastily.

* * *

~ **Lillian's POV**

I found myself riding into town on the cart with Abraham, Mary, her son, and Derik to ensure I was safe—as for in the eyes of Mary, for propriety's sake to have a man escorting me.

"It's a lovely town, small and sweet," I comment feeling Abe's hidden smile.

"It is," Mary smiles back at me. "It's a wonderful place to be."

 _Not right now, it seems. Redcoats all around.._

Then my eyes locked on Baker's form, _redcoat_. Tall and stiff with a bayonet propped on his shoulder, guarding.

As the cart stops and Abe jumps out, Baker looked over quickly seeing the movement in his peripheral vision.

His eyes meet Abe's first, smiling with lips closed, but his smile turns to regret when he lays his eyes on me.

My face is hopefully unreadable, as I look away from him, as if I never looked his way at all. I kept my eyes trained on Mary's son who was smiling up at me from her arms, pointing at me.

"I suppose-" Mary stops, looking behind me at the little boy on a horse racing through the town, kicking up mud everywhere, and splattering water from a puddle as he rounded the corner disappearing from everyone's sight. Everyone meaning _everyone in town saw it_.

"That was a little too fast," Derik mutters. "It must be important."

"Baker thinks so," Abe mumbles looking back to us after Baker sent him a look. "Stay together, no matter what." He emphasizes the last part to Derik and I.

"Yes sir," we respond together as Thomas cries out reaching to me.

"Oh yes! That's what I was saying. I suppose you wouldn't mind holding him, he seems to like you. I don't want him crying," Mary laughs lightly at her son, but it seemed she tried very hard to get him to stop reaching out to me.

 _She's acting strange._

"Sure, I'd love to. My brother is expecting his first child, so this can be good practice I suppose. He already has me lined up to watch the child," I say taking Thomas carefully, not liking how all his weight is pulling downwards, no upper body strength. This is what makes me fear babies, they are fragile. One wrong movement and you make them upset.

"Ooh," I wince at Thomas pulling at my hair.

"Nah! Thomas, let go!" Mary pulls his sons hand from my hair. "Oh? Congratulations to him and his wife, when is she due?" She asks, losing something in her tone that made her return to her nice self from yesterday.

 _Wait, did she not trust me?_

"She is due in August I believe," I answer, thinking of my brother and his wife Nellie. She is finally pregnant after so much time trying. They better not lose this one, God forbid.

Then the sound of marching filled our ears, and a line of redcoats, armed, walked in a line down the middle of town, to Strong Tavern.

"Open it," a high pitched British soldier with bulging eyes orders Baker to open the cellar doors.

 _Strong… That must be Anna standing near the doors! It really is a small town._

The soldiers disappear down the cellar, everyone standing near us look on in bated breath.

Moments later, the redcoats come out dragging prisoners with them, tied and some gagged, one by one. Many of the prisoners are older men.

"Abe, who is getting hung?" Mary asks panicked, taking her son from my arms seeing me give him back to her.

"No one should be," Abe says as we all watch the soldiers and prisoners head downhill towards the gallows. "There's nothing I can do anyway now."

"No!" Mary's jaw drops. "There's always something you can do."

"Oh so now you see what I'm dealing with. You agree with me now?" Abe asks her pointedly, trying to hold back a quarreling tone.

"Of course I don't agree with you. But.." Mary looks down at her feet. "They are good people. They couldn't have—"

"They were framed. Simcoe just wants them dead," Abe whispers under his breath just for us to hear.

"Framed for being rebel conspirators? That could be anyone, what is he thinking-" she stops herself before she gets carried on, but Mary and Abe seemed to not mind, and agreed.

"It's mainly Tallmadge and Brewster he is after," Abe tells me quietly as he removes items from the cart, and my eyes widen. "Their fathers, but in turn he gets back at them for capturing and torturing him in rebel camp."

"Wow," I breathe, not knowing Ben and Caleb did such a thing. And completely unethical! They didn't have the right it seemed to unleash any punishment on the British soldier, they have a rule to follow, this much I know.

"This is not—" I'm cut off by the sound of men yelling downhill. "—good."

"Move it people!" Soldiers began yelling at us to walk towards the center of the town. "Stay calm but move quickly! Rebels!"

 _No…_

Baker runs over, taking Mary's son as Abe helped her out of the cart, and Derik jumps out to let me down.

"Baker?" Abe asks him, wondering what he knows.

"You'll be safe, just follow the orders given, and stay together. There is no reason for them being here," Baker tells us, giving Mary's son back to her, and walking us over to the center of the main street where many of the people already are, but rebels were already here, pushing people to the center.

Women screaming… Children crying… Men getting into fistfights with some of them…

"Make ready! Present! Fire!" the redcoats shout from afar, and canons explode, and gunshots ring through the air.

"I got you, Miss," Derik whispers down to me as quiet as he could muster.

"This can't be happening," I whisper back to him as so many blue coats surrounded us, the redcoats, including Baker, were forced to let down their weapons and forced into the center with the rest of us.

I keep my eyes everywhere but on Baker but I feel his gaze on me, and from others.

I looked at each of the rebel men's faces—recognizing many from camp! Are they here under my father's orders?

 _To retrieve me? Then he isn't trusting me as much as he said he does.._

But the rebels made no voice on me being present, which was good. Maybe they don't recognize me in not as fancy attire—or they are corrupt rebels, or they have no idea I'm here to begin with. As long as they don't shoot—

I swallowed, and I grew calm when I saw a very familiar bluecoat walking past us, gazing at us earnestly commanding with authority flowing off him in waves, helmet held in his left arm, right hand on the pommel of his sword, Major Benjamin Tallmadge.

 _Handsome as ever._ I inwardly shake my head at the thought. _No one can deny that though_ , my mind adds as I look at him anxiously.

He spots Abe, and in the process of looking away he sees me right next to Abe, and I watched him do a double take and lose his stoic face for a moment to reveal worry. But he kept walking, and looked away from all of us, now facing away from the huddled crowd speaking to Caleb!

I felt a hand on the small of my back, and jumped, as did he—Baker.

"It'll be fine, Miss, I have you," Baker looks down at me sadly, thinking of last night.

I nod my head, remembering I'm in a Tori town, "Thank you—oh!"

A loud gunshot fired near us, and we all turn in the direction of Strong Tavern where a man shot the sign that was in the process of being repainted.

"That's Selah Strong!" The crowd murmured amongst one another as we watched the man drop his musket and fling his hat off, marching with purpose to his wife in the crowd with us.

To my next surprise (a time of never-ending surprises), Selah takes his wife's face in both of his hands, ever so gently, and kisses her lovingly, then pulling her into a hug in front of everyone not caring what display of affection he gives her.

I look at Abe as we share a look of shock, but it was then I realized his look of shock was for something entirely different as I followed Abe's eyes to Ben and Caleb, staring at the both of us, Caleb shrugging helplessly.

"It seems something else wasn't told to me," I whisper to Abe.

"Selah was dead, according to his wife."

My heart shattered into pieces for the poor woman while my blood boiled at Ben and Caleb, who didn't tell Anna anything regarding her husband's safe return to rebel grounds. How did she know for certain her husband was dead, though?

"We all need to have a talk soon, but I doubt that'd be possible," I tell him as he nods inconspicuously.

"Oh they'll make it possible," Abe nods his head over to the two men. Ben and Caleb quietly discussing, probably planning.

"Does Ben know you were here?"

"Yes I told him before I left. Caleb I didn't get to tell," in speaking of the man himself, he glanced my way before he left Ben's side, shaking his head at me.

 _Yes, he'll not be happy with me. Scratch that, we all won't be happy with each other when we all meet up… Probably not today._

"Inside everyone! Strong Tavern, inside!" A rebel man shouts at us.

I sigh, and feel some reassurance it'll all end well when Baker rests his hand briefly on my shoulder in order for no one to notice (except for Derik, flaring his nostrils at that forward movement) as we all crowded into the tavern, and took seats where there were some.

But as Abe said, we stay together, which we did.

"You're going to love this, Ben," Caleb walks over to Ben who is using his spyglass to look up at the church on the hill. "You know them bloody-backs using the church as stables? Well, they're using your old schoolhouse as a magazine. Two dozen barrels of powder."

"They have the higher ground, the firepower, and the cannons," Ben says frowning, handing the spyglass over to Caleb, who gave a gasp of surprise when he raised it up and peered through it, listening to his friend continue to say, "He wasn't lying about the gravestones. They're ripped out."

"Unholy bastards," he heard Caleb mutter. "Ah, here comes their leader. Bit foppy-looking too..."

Ben retrieved his spyglass, a bit annoyed that the quality of what he was viewing was poor. He saw the outline of a man standing near the cannons doing the same with his own spyglass. Placing his spyglass down, he said to Caleb, "Smuggle out the powder and any other military stores you can find."

"Al'ight," Caleb beams, slapping Ben lightly on the hindmost before hurrying away.

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

Thomas cries loudly making everyone wince at the level of pitch in the child's voice. Mary kept coaxing the child to stop crying, holding him tight to her, but he kept wailing because he is scared out of his wits like the rest of us. Probably not used to seeing so much people in one room.  
"Would you please shut that thing up?" An angered man fusses over in our direction.

 _He's a child for heaven's sake! Not even speaking yet or can comprehend anything of what we are saying._

"I'll take him Mary," I say wanting to give the woman a break, getting an idea that may work. I undo my updo and let my hair fall down to its full length, pulling the ends of it to my front to get the little boy's attention.

"No I couldn't-" She says handing him to me half way, but I already grabbed him and took him into my arms, receiving an ear full of scream, making me bite my tongue at the pain it caused my head.

"Look Thomas," I whisper with a smile, taking his hand, and my other hand dangles my hair in his face, and he slowly stops, red faced and tears falling down his cheeks. His mouth is part way opened revealing some bottom baby teeth just coming in. The poor darling..

He grabs my hair and pulls on it hard, beginning to smile some, while crying lightly still. It's better than all the yelling.

"Thank you," Mary mouths silently to me, letting out a sigh of relief. I nod my head, feeling the eyes of people on me, and some whispering. _Great, I knew something was wrong with this, I shouldn't draw attention to myself!_

"May I offer your men some ale?" A man asks Selah, leaving the Tavern.

Selah turns back around, infuriated at the man who asked that purposely, "This is my tavern, DeJong.  
I built it, I own it." He flung a man out of the seat across from this Mr. DeJong, and sat in it ready to argue.  
"And your wife sold it to me," the man's already light voice grows weaker, as if he is about to cry.  
"I had no choice. They were going to take it anyway," Anna speaks up from behind the counter.  
"She had no right to sell it," Selah begins to negotiate in a calmer manner. "The agreement is not binding."  
The man shakes his head, "I did not write the attainder. Take it up with Judge Woodhull."  
"Oh, I will, trust me. I have plenty to settle with the judge," Selah looks over to Abe who just took his son from my arms, and now the boy rests on his father's shoulders trying to fall asleep.  
But it was too good to be true.

The whole tavern shook from cannon fire from across the way, and people fell over on one another, gasping, I almost fell out of my seat if it wasn't for Derik steadying me. Not soon afterwards Caleb comes racing in, dirt and soot covering his face and front (looking normal I suppose) and Ben comes in behind him, looking scruffy from not shaving in days, and some dirt all over him as well (not looking normal).

 _Are we in the middle of a battle?_

* * *

Entering the tavern, Ben removed his helmet and placed it on a table that was in an adjacent room. Stepping back out, he saw Selah was glaring at Mr. Dejong, while Anna was behind the bar. He caught her furious look, along with Abe, who was sitting next to a woman holding a small child who looked no older than a year. From how Abe was sitting quite protectively towards the two, he surmised that the woman was Abe's wife and the child, their son. Then the woman sitting close to his wife, was Lillian, lovely Miss Washington herself amongst a crowd she should not be in. Her eyes were just as furious, and it unnerved him slightly, thinking of her father.

"Oy! Are you going to burn down your hometown now, Tallmadge?!"

He glanced towards the man who had shouted the question – Robeson was his name – but calmly said, "It's the king's men who are burning it." He glanced over towards Selah as he saw him approach Robeson, and hoped that Selah would not do anything rash.

"Take heart," he said, looking back towards the crowd of civilians and the redcoats who had been in the town. They were beyond frightened.

"We'll have them out soon enough," he said after a moment's pause.

"Why don't you hold your tongue, Robeson?" Selah spoke up, brandishing his knife in a very threatening manner towards the man. "Before you lose it!"

"Selah," he stated. They did not need the civilians to be panicking even further than they already were. Selah withdrew his knife after a moment and returned to where he was.

"Hewlett has us at range," he quietly said to him, leaning in and turning his back towards the civilians so that they could not try to overhear him.

"Yes," Selah answered.  
"We can't hope to hit him from here. I need you to put pressure on his flank."  
"We can move up the ridge to conceal our approach. That's even higher ground than his church" Selah mentions.  
Ben shakes his head at him, patting him on the shoulder as he curtly corrected the more immediate need. "Our church. Let's take it back, hmm?"

Selah nodded before gesturing for some of the men to leave with him. He looked back at the departing men, hearing a woman whisper in fear.

"Say something," she said.

Glancing up as movement caught his eyes, he saw Abe standing up, looking quite angry. Ben didn't blame him for that anger, but it was surprisingly nearly absent as Abe stated, "Benjamin. The Major isn't firing on us, he's firing on you. Now, whatever you boys came here to prove, I think you've proved it. But, I'm telling you right now, you will never take that garrison. All you're going to do is get these people killed."

Settling for a curious yet calm look, he wished that he could tell Abe what was going on, what with all the men they had, but there were just some things that he wished his best friend would shut up about. Like this particular demoralizing statement that was clear for all of his men in range to hear.

"Is that your wife, Woodhull?" he asked, nodding towards the fair woman sitting fearfully next to Abe, and the blonde haired infant with light blue eyes staring up at him innocently. "And your son?"

"Yes," Abe answered, "yes it is."

"It's very fine to meet you, Mrs. Woodhull," he said, tilting his head slightly in deference to the fiercely proud-looking woman who tried to vainly hide her fear. "I seem to remember your husband as a much quieter man."

"Quieter?" he heard Abe scoff. "What is going on out there, Ben?"

"Major Hewlett-"

"It's likely Captain Simcoe," Abe interrupted, just as Caleb went up to Ben to inform him of what happened outside, so Abe took his seat once more in attempts to calm his son.

"Damn it," Ben says slamming a cup of ale down after taking a needed sip. "Whoever it is what kind of a commander uses prisoners as a barricade?"

"Captain Simcoe, as I said," Abe said once more in the silent crowd. The pure anger in the tone of Abe's voice causing his son to start crying. "You may not know of him, but he's less subtle than the Major."

Ben narrowed his eyes slightly as he briefly thought about Abe's words and the missives that had been passed onto him about the conditions in Setauket before all of this.

"They mean to hold out until reinforcements arrive," Ben carefully stated, turning back to Caleb. "I figure we got till sundown to break them. You need to take another detachment and round on them from the east. Then I'll send forth terms for surrender. If we take the church, then we can use their cannons to defend against the next wave."

"Hewlett will never surrender to you! And Simcoe will shoot down any Continental who approaches the church!" Abe interrupted again earning a glare from Ben to shut up.

"Well, maybe we'll use his men to shield us," Caleb said, making his way through the crowd and tables, crashing glasses on the ground making baby Thomas cry once more, to grab a redcoat (Baker) and point his pistol at him. "Maybe this might make them stop trying to burn down the town, after all, by proxy, they're using everyone here as shields."

"Leave him be!" Anna and Lillian shouted from where they were, startling Ben. His eyes went to Lillian who was turned around in her seat, staring Caleb down heatedly.

"If you say you're better than them, then show it by your restraint, Brewster," Anna says.

"And for earning our trust you aren't off to a good start," Lillian adds much to Ben and Caleb's surprise, but sighs when his friend glares daggers at her.

"We don't need your-"

"Caleb! It's fine," Ben hushes his friend from across the room looking at the redcoat his friend has his pistol pointed at in the neck. _This mustn't be the soldier Lillian is friends with. Baker? There's no other reason she should be defending him._

"The Major is a fair man," Baker says evenly. "He will respect a flag of truce."

Ben considered the man's words for a few moments before quietly saying, "Selah said that he saw your father in the church, Abe. We don't know where our families are, which makes you the perfect man to deliver our terms." He saw Caleb roughly push the redcoat away upon hearing his words before approaching Abe. "Let's take him somewhere private, yeah?" he continued to say as he saw Caleb roughly haul their friend up and out of his seat, much to the frightened protests of Abe's wife.

"Don't worry ma'am," Caleb said to Abe's wife. "It's all right. We just need your husband to send a message. We're not going to hurt him."

"I seriously doubt that," Lillian says with tightened lips to Caleb, who's jaw clenches looking at the young woman hearing her retort as he punched Abe quite hard in the stomach.

"You held your gun to that man over there without a second thought," she continues.

"Ma'am, you're coming too, for outright speaking that way to an officer, currently in control of this here's tavern that you're sitting in, and raising your voice when it is not needed. Someone is at the wrong place at the wrong time," Caleb purposely added as he went to grab her arm, but Ben swatted it away, ignoring Mary's protests and other men who are dumbfounded by them taking a woman down to the cellar as well, probably thinking he'd rape her.

"Miss, you have my word, no harm will befall upon you, or anyone. Only a moment of your time to question you," Ben reaches his hand out for her to take, but she ignores it and stands herself, with her hair falling to the front of her shoulders following Caleb who is practically dragging Abe by his clothes.

"Mrs. Strong, would you kindly open the cellar for us?" Caleb calls over to Anna politely as they walk out the front room towards the back where the cellar is, as it would be a much quieter place for Ben to discuss and inform his agents as to the situation and hopefully calm the three of them down.

* * *

Descending into the cellar proper, with Lillian walking in front of him, Ben saw Abe haul Caleb up by the front of his vest and slam him into a foundation post, as Caleb said, "Hey! Hey! Just keeping up the ruse, Woody. All right?"

As he closed the inner doors, he saw Abe let Caleb go, but immediately round towards him shouting, "Ben! What the hell is this?!"

"Shh!" Anna hissed walking to the pair. "You want them to hear us up there?!"

"It's not like they already heard everything," Lillian says ironically, feeling a rough hand on her shoulder, shrugging it off catching Caleb's look of fury underneath his dirty face he began rubbing at with his sleeve.

"Oh they heard everything you had to say which really was unnecessary!" Caleb remarks. "Did you think we forgot about you Princess? _Have we not earned your complete trust yet_?"

She smiles irreverently, "No I didn't think you forgot about me. I only did that because I knew there was no other way of coming down here as well. We _all_ have to meet because this is _not_ what I intended to happen. We all need explaining and answers."

"Who is this Ben?" Anna asks him.

"What are you doing here anyways? I thought you said you weren't going to come here anymore after what I told you! Who escorted you here?!" Caleb actually had some care laced in his frustrated voice.

"Derik. My plan, to see Baker, the man you had a pistol in the neck to—which was necessary to speak up about, Anna knows—"

"I'm sorry have we met?" Anna asks her curiously.

"No I'm afraid we haven't Miss Strong. I'm Lillian Washington. Lillian Kennedy in these bloody parts," Lillian looks to the woman politely, holding her hand up at Caleb temporarily. "It is a privilege to finally meet you."

Anna's eyes bugged out her head, grinning ear to ear, "W-Washington? It's an honor to meet you!"

Ben and Caleb chuckle fleetingly, but Caleb is the one who voices, "She's in this ring with us as well, getting intelligence where there is any-"

"Okay we can catch up on all of that later! Ben—" Abe looks at Ben fuming.

"Abe," he said, raising his hands up slightly in placation, "I'm sorry. I couldn't send a warning – there was no time. It was only by God's good grace that we came across Walter Havens. He told us about the hangings."

"There were no hangings!"

"What?" he questioned.

"Not until you showed up," Abe said, anger clearly shining in his eyes. "I had convinced Hewlett to commute their sentences. They were bound instead for the _Jersey_."

Caleb gave a bark of absurd laughter, saying, "Ah, the _Jersey_. Because that ain't a death sentence, is it?"

"Apparently, it's not," Anna spoke up, hurt coloring the tone of her voice, "I stood on the deck of that ship and had the warden tell me that Selah died there over Christmas. I have lived with that belief since we were last in New York, spying for you. Surely you had time enough to warn me that my husband was alive and serving alongside you both."

Ben took a deep breath, knowing that what he did was not the best of intentions, but rather designed to protect his friends. They at least had a right to know or at least know some of why he did it. "Look... Anna, I'm sorry. It was my decision. Caleb wanted to tell you, but I said no. The truth is, your husband is alive because my brother is dead. Robert Rogers used the promise of Samuel as bait to trap me."

"Samuel is dead?" Abe whispered after letting this dismal news sink in.

He nodded in confirmation, feeling his words trying to stick in his throat, but managed to get them out, saying, "Selah was with him when he passed. So I can confirm for you that yes, the _Jersey_ is a death sentence, and wherever my father is, I will not see him there."

"And you won't," Lillian says. "Hopefully still no, your presence may have altered any further rethinking on it. But, I disagree with it being a death sentence; of course if optimistic me had it my way no one would be sentenced. However, anything seems better than a hanging after what I witnessed today," Lillian mumbles, glancing a look at Caleb whose features soften. "Most of the prisoners on that list a while back returned alive haven't they? That's a greater chance of living than the gallows, God forbid it doesn't happen at all."

"Which is why we're here-" Ben tells her.

"-That's exactly what I argued in court, Miss, thank you for proving my point," Abe smiles at her but she frowns at him.

"I'm not sure that's something to be happy about. You got yourself in trouble more than enough times, I do not wish to do the same, sounding like you," Lillian tells him as Caleb lets out a bark of laughter.

"So... so this raid is family business? It's personal?" Abe suddenly said in a low tone as he crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring Lillian's insult, looking up at Ben who blinks at his friends change in tenor.

"You're saying that you wouldn't do the same?" Caleb asked. "And where are my uncle, Ben's father, and the other two?"

Glancing down for a moment before looking back up, he saw Abe briefly shake his head slightly as he said, "I don't know where they are, but I'm just saying that this whole thing makes sense, is all. More sense than Washington sending you both here anyway. And his own daughter to this infested town and my quartered soldier home!"

"I was really sent here by my own choice, with his allowance, to be taught a lesson. A lesson I've been meaning to learn no matter how childish that sounds. Baker isn't.. loyal to us as much as I thought," Lillian says looking down, feeling the frustration and betrayal eat at her chest. "The sooner you'd know the better since he's.. up there."

"You know Baker?" Anna asks her astounded.

"Explain, now," Ben says as Caleb moves to stand next to her.

"He—Well I arrived yesterday morning, but I didn't see him until that night returning from his shift. We discussed the obvious problems we've been having, such as not enough communication as normal, and he openly admitted he was torn at first, but then spoke like a true redcoat, pledging his loyalties to the crown. Not once did he mention any more about intelligence providing" she explained, keeping out the personal parts.

"Spoke like a true coward, more like," Caleb spits at the ground.

"Great, so much for having someone else on our side, that could've worked more-" Abe shakes his head. "Ben, you explain yourself."

"Washington granted me discretion to advance my mission as I see fit," he stated.

"Oh, I see," Abe said, condescension coloring his tone as he uncrossed his arms. "So you're going to have to explain it all to him, then. Good."

Ben felt a brief push of Abe's hands on his chest in anger as the farmer continued to say, "When you do, please inform 711 that his precious Mr. Culpeper is finished. I'm out."

His eyes widened for a moment before he said, "No, nobody is out. Your standing in this town is intact and I intend to keep it that way." He could not lose Abe, not right now, after losing Baker even though he didn't come through any recently since Dorchester Heights. Abe was the eyes and ears they needed into New York City – he could not let his general down no matter what.

"I'm not a soldier in your army, Major," his friend replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "I don't have to take your orders. But you're right about one thing. My standing in this town is all that you've got left. Now I wasn't lying when I told you Hewlett would never surrender. And you know there's no chance that you take that church before some force on this island shows up."

Caleb pulls Abe away from Ben, but loosens his hold on his friend's jacket, whispering in plead, "We ain't leavin' without our family, all right? And this woman, who shouldn't be here to begin with," He gestured over to Lillian who is lost in thought staring off in the distance.

"Well, then I guess today you take your orders from me," Abe whispers back, catching both Ben and Lillian's attention, turning back to face him.

"What do you have in mind?" Anna asks Abe interestedly.

Abe looks down at his feet before an old white cloth from a sack is thrown at him, spluttering out of thought looking at Lillian who tossed it to him.

"I- No!" He points his finger at her. "I do not always get my best ideas last!"

"Going by how you were looking just then, even a baby wouldn't trust what you had in mind. Were you thinking about bringing one of the soldiers with you?" She asks him, her voice breathy like her fathers, a learned trait after being taken in by him years ago.

"No I was thinking about brining you, as a witness since no one in town knows you, and you're an outside visitor, they may take your word for it, being more exposed to rebel forces," Abe matter-of-factly says making Caleb scoff and Ben huff, pulling Lillian by the waist closer to him before she can respond making her jump at his forwardness, looking up at the scruffy man with narrowed eyes.

"She isn't going anywhere. You are going to march uphill towards the church and negotiate terms of surrender, and speak well of our intentions," Ben tells Abe with a smirk.

"Alright I suppose that is better—wait you want me to surrender alone?" Abe asks his friend questioningly.

"Well, you have a flag. We just need to find you a pole for it," Lillian responds slowly resulting in smirks from all four of the people.

"Where is all this coming from?" Caleb asks her playfully. "Am I influencing you now? I'm likin' it Miss Washington."

"No, I'm just opening up more. I trust you all," she answers equally before turning to Abe. "This moment, I trust you Mr. Culper to end this scrimmage. You 've done so much already, more than anyone could ever ask, and you did it all on your own without being asked to be. Now, you're being asked to surrender alone to speak to your father and Major Hewlett. If you got the mouth and the words for it, and the will to save your town and the prisoners, you can succeed in doing so—"

"You're sounding like your father, tread lightly now," Caleb jests, quoting the 'tread lightly' her father always says. This time, there was no holding back to sigh of exasperation as Ben shook his head slightly towards Caleb's antics and words. He, Caleb, and Anna were standing slightly away, but they had definitely heard the words being exchanged, and he was standing not far behind the young Washington, not wanting to let her out of his sight as he listened to her words of motivation that were not just meant for Abe, but for all of them.

At least that is what he got out of it.

"But I needed it," Abe nods his head, looking at the young woman who is standing a couple inches taller than him he realized with a self-conscious face. "I needed that, thank you. Alright, let's go. Anna?"

They all follow Anna to the cellar doors, her and Caleb open them and begin descending up the stairs to the last pair of doors that open to the inside of the tavern.

A warm hand on the small of Lillian's back made her knees buckle and trip on a step, making the said hand wrap around her waist once more, catching and steadying her at her feet.

"I'm sorry for startling—" Ben's apology is interrupted by her.

"No it's fine! No harm done," she smiles to him which he returns easily, standing a few steps below her making her taller than him. "Thank you for breaking my fall, and for defending me in Abe's possible plan of me going out there."

"You don't have to thank me for any of that," his words die in his throat, suddenly shy. _Shy?_ "Just, your dress is a little long; I didn't want you to trip on the bottom hem. And your father would most likely hang me if you were sent to negotiate."

She smiles anyway at his modesty, not responding to the rest of what he said, "I'll always thank you, Major. But you didn't have to grab me by the waist a while ago."

He blinked, swallowing and almost choking on his own saliva in the back of his throat, "I- No, I don't recall that."

"Are you sure you didn't pull me close after hearing his plan?"

"I'm quite sure," he says walking with her up the remaining steps now.

"Head of Intelligence should be utterly sure, every time. Not 'quite,'" she lastly says taking Caleb's hand as they walk up into the tavern leaving Ben at a loss for words.

The man feels his neck heat up precariously, and wondered about the way she smiled back at him with lighthearted eyes, before letting a small grin cross his lips.

And just like that, all five of them return to neutral faces before they cross into the front room the crowd is still sitting in, every one looking up when they walk back in; a little more relieved seeing Anna, the tavern maid and owner, walk in first looking calm.

"Alright, we devised a plan," Abe says walking in last, speaking to everyone but looking at his wife.

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

I sat next to Mary after Abe told everyone his plan to go speak to the church and reassured us all we'd be alright. And I remained in my seat after Ben, Caleb, Abe, and a select other rebels left, and I stayed in my seat anxiously waiting, hoping everything goes as planned.

Taking the hairpin out of my deep dress pocket, ignoring rude stares of men, I begin tying my hair back up again, not in the best hairdo as before because I'm not in front of a mirror, but after feeling it smooth atop my head, I feel pleased enough with it being pulled out of my face except for some long lose strands that didn't survive in me tying it up.

My finger scratches my cheek when I went to pull my hand down from my hair as we all heard a single gunshot and a man yell madly in the distance.

..

"Please don't be my husband, please don't be my husband," Mary pleads silently, squeezing her eyes shut nervously. _It can't be, he is a pledged loyalist is he not? And his father is up there with him._

The panic thereafter made everyone go into fits, some cursing out Abraham, some annoyed at sitting and not doing anything helpful for the crown, and others saying they need a drink to drown out baby Thomas' continuing crying.

 _This is why I don't want children, mother. Because they are loud, and people can be foolish._

"That could have been Simcoe," Derik exclaims.

"Oh it was," a man says sitting parallel to us confirms. "The only redcoat in this town that yells is him."

 _Maybe the soldier has a rusty bullet stuck in his leg and he doesn't know it._

I shake my head inwardly at that supposed to be humor. All this talking to myself is keeping me calmer than I had anticipated, but being worried will never cease.

Scaring everyone, a rebel soldier runs in out of breath, making everyone grow dead silent, listening to him exclaim, "It's safe to leave the tavern. The prisoners were freed, no bloodshed on either side."

"Thank goodness," I mumble as everyone stood up all together and pushed their way outside, so I sat with Mary until it was a handful of people remaining waiting for the crowd to disperse, and some chose to stay inside to be served, or they didn't feel safe until the rebels completely left.

Baker and other redcoat men left quickly, walking out to see to it everyone was as they should be.

Mary and I shared a nod before Derik led us out, looking around making sure it was indeed safe, which it was.

Well to Derik and I, at least, not so much for the town. Mary decided to step back inside when she didn't see her husband in sight as the blue coated regiment march imperiously down the street near the tavern, with Ben leading them.

An evening ray of sunlight crashed into my eyes causing me to turn away to adjust my sights, and when I look back Ben is approaching me with a hand at his sword, light brown hair in disarray in its queue, tight yellow pants… almost too tight, maybe they didn't give him his proper size; and brown boots covering lithe legs striding towards me.

I scrunch my nose at thinking these thoughts, and blush madly, _he's my friend!_ And a complete stranger still… He still never told me his reason for fighting, being here in this war.

"Grab your haversacks and head for the boats," Ben orders with a clear voice to the men waiting for orders.

Now I know why my mother pushes me to use a fan in my hand.

I cast my eyes down fighting back a blush, embarrassed for taking in his appearance so, but… _How can anyone not?_

"Miss Lillian," he says with a slight bow of his head, glancing around us making sure no one is listening. "Those soldiers over there," he whispers, regarding the group of regular dressed soldiers across the way armed with bayonets looking at us. "You and Derik go to them, and they'll escort you out of this town. You're going back to camp with us, my orders."

"Is this safe?" I ask him, a bit worried, avoiding the redcoats I see in my peripheral vision where Baker is standing.

"You said you trust me, us all, did you not?" He asks calmly.

I smile, "Yes I did. You know what I mean though."

He catches my gaze and shakes his head, "They will huddle around you and Derik, keeping you unseen from any eyes, and they'll take the way back by the farms. They'll answer any further questions you have, but you will walk quickly to the boats waiting for us."

"Alright," I nod my head, and look to Derik who was standing behind me against the wall of the tavern, nodding his head. "Time to go Derik."

"Leaving the horses and carriage?"

"Yes, we have more where that came from."

Derik nods his head to Ben who returns it soldierly.

I feel his eyes following us to the soldiers, who immediately walk closer to us, and huddle around us before I could blink. The guns and tall men blocked any people from what I tried to see, to make sure, but in the process of turning my head, my eyes caught Baker's. _Promise, regret, and love._

The tallest man of the redcoats here, from this far away. _He looks so innocent._

I look away quickly, and keep my eyes focused on the men around us, walking quickly to safety. I need to get home, well to camp, then home. Safety is priority. I have no care for Baker anymore, after what he told me; after what he had done.

When it grew quieter, walking away from the town, one of the men leading us spoke up.

"It's good to have you back, Miss Washington. We are glad you are safe."

"It's great to be going back, where I belong," I respond with a smile, thinking of my father, Maria, Ashley, my mother… Mother!

 _Ashley I hope you did your part._

* * *

As Ben watched his carefully picked out men leave, surrounding Lillian and Derik, he saw her turn back and look past him to the redcoats behind him.

He turns back, being the vigilant handler Sackett told him to be, and sees only one is looking her way, the others are talking amongst one another.

The look in this tall man's eyes, _Baker's eyes_ , he found an unsettling feeling prick his nerves and jostle his stomach. _I don't like that look,_ he thinks to himself.

Feeling eyes on him, Baker turns to his left, looking neutral towards the Major who is eyeing him dangerously.

But Baker squints his eyes and merely shakes his head, looking back to his fellow redcoat friends as Ben turns around, clearing his mind while clutching his helmet, and watches Abe approach him in the rest of his troop following him.

"Mr. Woodhull," he speaks louder, more firm and orotund, so that anyone can listen in on, particularly Baker, to ensure he meant well. "Please express my thanks to the major for freeing the survivors as well as my wish that he administers the proper justice to Captain Simcoe."

Abe raises a brow at his friend's unusual speaking, and tone, but shrugs it off, "Will do."

Now looking down, uncomfortably, he leans in close to Ben to whisper, "Culper."

Ben's brow furrows, and eyes unstiffen, "What?"

"Tell Washington its Samuel Culper, not Culpepper. I won't sign the letters as anyone else."

Ben slowly begins to smirk, remembering Caleb tell him of Abe's dislike to the strange name Washington chose himself.

"And tell Miss Kennedy- well, Miss Washington that I do not get my best ideas last or second. You keep that in mind too. She's a little outspoken that one," Abe says before walking off quickly, not seeing the proud grin take up Ben's face.

Proud because he has Culper back and he is self-justifying as ever.

* * *

The soldiers escorted Lillian downhill near the farms, away from the town, but gained pace once the tree line was spotted to get to the ships before anyone noticed rebels smuggling a woman and slave.

No words were exchanged, just nervous breaths as men took turns casting glances uphill where many of the redcoats are, one of them looking out with a spyglass.

"Is everything well?" Lillian asks the man who is looking back for a long time.

"Yes, my lady," he looks back at her, flustered to be spoken to by her, before looking straight ahead once more.

…

..

.

After quiet, brisk walking, they finally made it past the tree line and to the dark and muddy water, a little indent in the land where it flows out into the Sound.

The soldiers were hustling and bustling all around carrying items into the whaler boats, some with baskets, some with extra weapons, and some with small barrels of powder.

"No," Lillian's heart shatters seeing a man with a gunshot to the head, dead, be carried to the boats where Caleb is there receiving him.

"I thought no blood was shed!" She goes up to Caleb who looks up at her from the boat forlornly putting his father down gently with the other men.

"Aye, none was shed in either army. But the prisoners, yeah. My own uncle—the bloody bastard Simcoe did it," the man says, taking off his hat, looking down self-loathingly.

"I'm sorry," she tells him quietly, tears pricking her eyes when he shakes his head. She can see he is forcing tears back, looking down at his uncle resting in peace. "Caleb…"

"I don't suppose you can do any of your healing works?" He asks with a flat voice. "Blood studying in college you say?"

She gulps, cringing at the feeble old man's bloody neck, "I'm afraid I can't do anything—but clean his wound and remove that bullet. Would you like me to do that?"

"Please, I'll help you. He didn't deserve to go like that and he won't be buried that way. Oi, boys! The lady is in this boat!"

She sits down on the other side feeling the boat begin to move, and Caleb pulls in some rope while directing the rowers towards the middle of the Sound.

Digging in her pocket, she took out some metal pinchers and a prodder to help dig the bullet out. As she realizes she has no cloth to wipe the blood, she goes to her cloak and begins to rip it until Caleb's rough hand stops her.

"No need for that, don't rip your warm clothes," He quickly rips the bottom corner of his shirt, goes around her to dip his hand in the water to wet it, and gives her a sopping wet heap of cloth.

"You didn't have to—I still need to use a dry cloth, I always use my cloak or whatever—"

"Do you want your father to be scared shitless after what we report and you walking in with us?" He rips off the other bottom corner of his shirt and hands it to her.

She sighs receiving it thankfully, wiping the blood off the dead man's neck with the wet cloth, "I didn't think of that. Just like I didn't think about telling you about me coming here, I apologize for that."

"Forgiven. It could have been for the best, but everything happens for a reason," he says looking at his Uncle, the waters, and the boats following, with Ben in another.

"You're beginning to sound like me, tread lightly," she smirks making him chuckle.

"I do not tread lightly, Princess," she gives him a look making him rethink his words. "Fine maybe I can with you."

She smiles, "For every Washington. Splendid, now I suggest looking away as I, operate."

"I can handle—" gunshots rang out and everyone jumped in their seats, shaking the boat, looking at the redcoats on shore point their weapons towards someone swimming—Anna swimming towards shore!

"Annie you're losing it," Caleb grits his teeth, shaking his head, and grunting when a man shouted 'help her!' from ashore. Lillian took this opportunity to dig the bullet out the man's neck while he isn't looking.

Seeing a shine that doesn't belong in the human body, she pulls out the bullet with ease, only spilling more dark blood out on the boat, and quickly stops it with a cloth atop his neck.

"Got it."

He looks over at her, holding up the pinchers with the bullet in between it.

"You tease," he jests. "Give me it?"

"Sure," she drops it into his hand as he shoves it in his pocket.

"I'll be savin it. Shoot it in Simcoe's neck next time I see him if possible."

Her lips squeeze shut at such vigor for revenge, and goes back to the dead man still bleeding… Wondering how familiar Caleb's tone sounds…

Almost as if…

A look crosses her eyes that many on the boat do not know what it is, but it can be assured that Miss Washington has come to a conclusion about something.

Something important.

But no one made to question it as they rowed along, leaving their Commanding General's daughter to herself, casting glances every now and again to her cleaning up the poor old man's wound.

 **A/N: Well... A ton of stuff went down. Lillian is being brought back to camp *sigh of relief*. But what is she thinking about? Did she perhaps change her mind about something? Something _important?_ Find out next in Season 2! I expect the next chapter to be up by the end of July. Stay tuned!**

 **Thank you all! And thank you Guest for your wonderful reviews that make my day!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	19. Chapter 19: Thoughts of a Free Man

_"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence…" –George Washington_

 **SEASON TWO**

The army increased its effectiveness and success rate through a series of trials and errors, often at great human cost. General Washington and other distinguished officers were instrumental leaders in preserving unity, learning and adapting, and ensuring discipline throughout the rest of the years of war…

 **Chapter 19 Mt. Vernon Summer of 1777**

The rain echoes and splashes on the dark Potomac River, like glass shards piercing through silk in this summer heat wave. The slaves went to their homes up the hill before it started pouring buckets and pails. I sit back in the rocking chair, moving back and forth, on the long back porch underneath shelter watching it fall as I think about everything, only finishing what I started. Since the day I was born I was thinking so, I continue thinking about every single thing; trying to wrap my mind around the world. However, all of these thoughts that keep me moving during the day are not even worth thinking about at night when I fall asleep into the deepest slumber in the world, or a light sleep and wake up at midnight, staying up until the next night…

Ever since my mother and I made the trip in the winter to my father's winter encampment I've been giddy with optimism more than ever. Optimism for winning the war, optimism that my father will come home alive and safe, and optimism for the Culper Spy Ring, and the friends I made in this spy ring that are with me in getting intelligence of the enemy.

I just turned twenty, now in the year of 1777. I'm a polished woman from what I'm told by men (friends of the family) who have been paying visits more often to win my praise. Ha. I'm still too young gentlemen! My mind may be older but my bodily shell is not. My skin is glowing youthfully, and my brown hair attains it's long, luscious length. I'm visually seen by others as typical of many of the young women one sees in this suburban outpost- because I live in a world where I have to play the part of a young, aristocratic, clueless model. At least I have to when I'm around the public.

Yes, my mother Martha Washington wants me to be myself, but I must hold back my "rash, bold self that is definitely not appropriate. Both in speaking and in ways." And yes, this was part of the 'light' scolding I received from her when I returned with the Continental Army from Setauket.

 _"Martha, I agree that it is not appropriate for her to act this way-" George sighs when I removed his arm from my back when we went to their shared quarters for privacy._

 _"But it's who I am!"_

 _"And maybe 'who you are' is not entirely grown up yet," Martha snaps. "I was wrong for bringing you with me."_

 _"She had a rough childhood, how she is cannot be blamed for being here for the winter with the influence of men's behavior around her. She was raised, and still being raised rather well by us even if I am off fighting a war far away from home. She is a sweet girl and never meant to harm herself travelling there, nor did she mean to hurt your feelings in not telling you." He looks down at me and I nod my head, swallowing some salty tears that never escaped my eyes._

 _"I'm sorry mother. I knew you wouldn't have let me go if I told you. I did it because I had to figure out something important."_

 _"And did you?" She asks._

 _"Yes. Albert Baker is no longer a part of my life, nor is he my friend. I had to know."_

 _I was met with the fluffiness of her cloak as she drew me in close for a hug, and a kiss on the temple of my head with a mumbled, motherly apology from her as well. But not without a punishment of course.._

 _"This summer you are to be in the presence of many men and women at balls and other parties, to socialize and attain proper etiquette you will use the rest of your life." Before I could speak up she held up her hand. "When at home and there are no such public events, you will entertain women who will come for tea and other lady merriments. Turning twenty soon, you must start looking more presentable every second of the day, and look for a man-"_

 _"Martha, not in front of me do you two discuss this," George sighs once more, shutting his eyes this time._

 _The giggle that escapes my lips turns to hard laughter and I'm red in the face, causing my mother to laugh and my father chuckles._

 _When it all dies down, and I lose my smile, I finally speak up, "I've been looking. None are… perfect."_

 _My father's hands hold my face gently as he smiles proudly, "Do not stress over it my little girl. You can look, but he will find you, and it'll all fall into place after that. A sensible woman can never be happy with a fool not worthy of your attentions to commence with."_

 _My mother's soft hand touches the bottom of my chin turning my face to her smiling one._

 _"Exactly. Just as long as you're looking, there's nothing like it," she says._

 _"There's also nothing like me changing my mind," I look up at my father who looks at me inquiringly. "Father I change my mind on finding Robert Rogers. I shouldn't be out for blood, revenge, or questioning. I don't need to know why he killed my real father-"_

 _"Lillian, this can be discussed later."_

 _"No it can't. I don't know what I was thinking- thinking I could capture him and interrogate him- and it's not.. proper to act and think as so. I'm a sensible woman."_

 _"You are," they both say. But my father continues, "You don't have to continue in seeking him out, but I will not cease in our searching."_

 _"It's not 'our'-"_

 _" 'Our' as in my men."_

 _"Oh. I see."_

That aside, I have not given up my role in the ring, even though it's little I realized. I almost feel I am not needed at times seeing how Abe can get information from New York, then Anna signals, Caleb goes to retrieve it, and Ben receives it before conveying it to my father. I am just around in case something slips up or something else comes up.

Perhaps my role is important. The army needs all the help they can get. Any watchful eyes and snooping ears are necessary.

Therefore, I must make connections, close and trusted ones, scattered throughout the colonies-

"Interesting," My brother Jacky's voice startles me out of my rocking chair, and I fall on the damp patio floor.

"What's interesting?"

"You talk to yourself," he states, taking a seat in my rocking chair smugly, chuckling at me grumble and move to the regular chair next to him to sit still.

"What.. did you hear? Or what did I say?"

"You said you were unsure of yourself. I didn't know you were so nervous and self-conscious."

I inwardly sigh with relief. He doesn't know of me helping father.

"No! I'm not self-conscious. I'm George Washington's daughter, there's nothing to be self-conscious about."

He laughs, "Maybe not completely, but you're just a teeny bit," he pinches his forefingers close together in a pinch. "You're actually more shy than what you let on and what you think."

"Okay I know that much at least. But I'm confident."

"Not at this moment you're not. You are slouching and your shoulders are sagging. Sit up straight with your shoulders rolled back."

I frown as I do as he says, "Better?"

"Ehrm no. Adjust your bosom," he points at my chest and as I look down his finger travels up and flicks the tip of my nose in jest.

"Stop it!"

"Jacky!" Martha walks out on the patio to join us, shutting the door behind her. "Leave your sister be!"

"I'm helping her be the lady she is supposed to be, _destined_ to be!"

"You told him?" I throw my head back to look at my mother upside down who nods gently. "You may as well tell the whole state now."

She laughs suspiciously, "Oh no, you are. At all the events you will be attending, particularly the Shippen Ball. If not say it, you will show it, which is what I recommend. It is better to do than to say and remove all doubt."

"Of course. Yes mother," I agree with a smile enjoying the rest of our little conversation until the loyalist neighbors step outside on their porch in the distance.

"They are only doing what we are doing, cooling off. We are fine," Jacky exclaims with a serious face towards my mother who stood up from her seat the moment she saw them.

"I know. I'm only getting out of the rain, it is pouring harder now. Come, Lilly."

I look over to my brother shaking my head slowly as I follow my mother inside.

* * *

"The Thoughts of a Free Man." Benjamin Tallmadge stands in front of the Commander-in-Chief reading the prominent title on one of the sheets in the bundle of 'anti-Washington' papers.

"This is an anonymous attack on your leadership and it's been circulating in the camp. Look, it begins by laying the loss of Philadelphia at your feet and it concludes with calling for your exile," Ben glances back and forth between His Excellency's eyes and the horrible writing blasting Washington so rudely, and profanely.

"It compares you to the demon Ba'al," Ben spits, slamming the papers down on the table in front of the Commander, who remains unfazed by the whole 'reporting.' "There are rumors that Horatio Gates and Charles Lee have both written to Congress to have you removed as the commander-in-chief."

"I requested an intelligence report on the movements of the enemy and you come to me with rumor," Washington clarifies, hardly expecting his Head of Intelligence to inform him of such. Only his own daughter and son would think to do so.  
"Sir, I see myself as your eyes and your ears against all threats to your leadership," Ben answers with a lower tone than before, realizing how brash he was speaking… But it was necessary.  
"Then what do you _see_ and _hear_ in _Philadelphia_?" Washington utters lowly.

"Well, sir, the city having just been taken, I've not had time to cultivate a source there yet," Ben answers quickly, knowing guiltily beforehand it will not be what Washington would want to hear.

"New York, then," Washington stands up high from his chair so quickly, Ben's eyes widened thinking he would be in trouble, trouble as in being escorted out of the room by force if he didn't cooperate.

"You have had sufficient time to get a person of intelligence inside that city. The advice from whom would provide critical should we move to retake it." Washington moves over to stand by the window, looking out of it contemplatively. "What is the status of their defense? I depend on you to enlighten us.  
Your man Culpeper on Long Island, what word from him?"

"Well, it's- it's Culper, sir. And it's still too dangerous to make contact," Ben exclaims once more.  
"I require a full report on New York Harbor before we move camp. You shall engage Culper or recommend to me a new head of intelligence," Washington turns to face the Major with a watchful eye, causing Ben to swallow at the man's majesty. Even the painting of the man himself propped on an easel next to him seems to be eyeing the young man closely.  
"Yes, Yes sir," Ben responds with a nod and unsureness in his eyes blinking away and looking down when they meet His Excellency's. "My courier is in the camp as we speak and he'll be ready to set sail tonight."

"Splendid. And Major."

"Yes sir."

"You received a letter from my daughter, in thanks of securing her and returning her to us safely."

Ben blinks in surprise, watching his Commander in Chief simply move a long arm over to his desk, pick up a letter with a golden wax seal, and hold it out for him to take.

"Oh, thank you sir. I wasn't expecting to receive this," Ben says after stepping forward and taking it from him.

"Neither was I," Washington says in a tone Ben felt a cold sensation in his chest. "The report of your Setauket scuffle will not tarry from my mind. I want my daughter safe by all costs, if you didn't know this before you took your men to invade the town my Lilly was visiting by my permission. Apparently, our vision on acting as we see fit is entirely different."

Ben looks down, lips pressed together in a thin line matching the tall man in front of him, reminding him of being in trouble with his own father.

"Sir," a corporal stepping into the room breaks the silence. "Lt. Colonel Hamilton is here."

"Yes, send him in. Major, you are dismissed, and you have permission to respond to her," Washington tells Ben who nods his head, and gives a stiff bow before leaving the room briskly out of nerves and unrest to inform his friend on the danger of what Washington ordered.

* * *

"Right here, you," Caleb smirks at the Native American Indian who stands stock still in hesitation, holding up a tomahawk. "Come on! Right here, you. Right in my lily-white nut sack!"  
"Huh? Come on, you savage. Make your people proud. Right here! Come on!" Caleb shouts and drums on the barrel he is resting above, stopping when the familiar swoosh of the tomahawk flies and lands in the barrel just below his 'lily-white nutsack.'

"Whoo! That's what I'm talking about! Drinks on me, fellas. What did I tell you? Huh? What did I tell you? Right here. Right?" Calebs laughter stops but his grinning continues as he shows a big 'I told you so' at the Indian on a better way to hold the weapon.

"I assume you put in the proper request for all these supplies?" Ben comes up behind his friend with the same smirk and a friendly clap on his back having heard the loud dialogue.

"Huh? Request? No. No, these are my gifts for the cause."  
Ben raises his eyebrows, "Oh, I see. The black market, then."  
"Yeah, you do see," Caleb nods, jabbing his friend in the stomach brotherly as he sauntered off behind him.  
"Well, perhaps you might be getting the itch to make another trade tonight. Maybe visit our old hometown, visit an old friend…" Ben tries coaxing his friend who is bending over taking handfuls of the spilling ale in the barrel.  
"Nah, not tonight."  
"I-I'm afraid this is not a request, Caleb. It is an order."  
"An order?"

The smirking is threatening to cease, but it continues for wit's sake.

"That's right," Ben says.  
"I think I'm done with those."  
"Done?" Ben looks at Caleb curiously.

"Yeah."  
"What, done with orders?"

"Orders, Culper, army. I mean, it's all a bit of a tail chaser, yeah? But with this here, whale oil, plucked from a fat Tory skiff off of New Haven and resold for Â£12 on Devil's Belt that's the kind of profit that can make a man think about quitting the army and applying to Congress for a license to privateer."

Caleb opened the small barrel that contains whale oil, poured it onto a white rag, and began wiping the blade of the tomahawk with it front to back. "Loyal subjects harass at my pleasure and make a bit of coin on the side. And the best part, _the best part_ , is the only one I'm risking is me."

Caleb ambled over to the fire pit with a small smirk now, and dipped the tomahawk in it before taking it out quickly, raising it up now ablaze because of the oil on it. "Han Yerry!"

"Look, Caleb, this is not my order. It's Washington's."  
"Oh, Washington," Caleb's smirk fades as does Ben's, as he watches his friend wave the tomahawk slowly in his face, feeling the heat from it making him break into a sweat.  
"Well, you'll just have to tell him that you're following protocol. See, Culper doesn't signal unless it's safe, and he ain't signaled in two months. So it ain't safe."  
"Caleb, listen to me-" Caleb throws the tomahawk from afar, into the bark of a tall tree nearby, striking it with a loud thump.'  
"I am listening, Ben. I'm listening now like I should have listened before. Like when you ordered to let Simcoe live, I should have listened to reason and put my hatchet in his head. But I didn't.  
And he survived long enough to kill my uncle. Now that's on me. And I should've shot Rogers with my handy pistol when we had that stalemate. I promised Miss Washington I'd bring him to her. If I know her she is probably sneaking out and trying to find him herself. That's on the both of us actually if she winds up dead. You want to get Abe killed? That's on you entirely."

"Caleb."

* * *

Ben returned to his tent in exasperation and frustration at Caleb's stubbornness. Fear also plagues his mind. He cannot lose his friend because he has lost friends before, and he can't lose his courier!

Sighing at the scouting reports stacked almost as high as his head on either side of the desk, giving him little space to write, much less place a quill and inkwell on the desk, he goes to his seat and begins working. It was extremely cramped in the tent, especially since his cot took up the majority of the space. All one was able to do was either work or sleep.

Sitting behind the creaky and tiny desk in his tent, he picked up the two letters that had been bound together in twine and glancing at the first folded one. Unknotting the twine that held the package together, his eyes caught movement. He glanced down at the ground where he saw such movement, and froze in recognition of the letter that Washington handed him, saying it was from his daughter. It fell out of the pocket of the inside of his coat.

Unfamiliar handwriting rolls across the back of the envelope causing his interest and weariness from reading the same writing to make him pick it up off the small, dirty mat that sits above the natural earth.

His eyes widened slightly as he saw the numerical digits written across the envelope under his name in a lovely form of script. Breaking the golden wax seal carefully with the engraving of 'LW', he unfolded it and nudged the precariously perched candlestick on his desk a little more towards him as he leaned the letter towards the flame.

 _Benjamin,_

 _First, do not worry about the formalities. I informed my father beforehand that this letter would contain words of thanks and gratefulness for your act of honor in securing my person and returning me back to camp safely. Therefore he will not open and read this before it goes into your hands. And, I do, thank you. I thank you once more for being there for me as you said you would. This goes to Caleb as well; please give him my many thanks once more too. The shock of the whole event hit me like a wave as soon as I was heading home because, if it probably weren't for you and your men showing up, I wouldn't have been going home. What I was surrounded by, even in Abe's own home, it was in God's blessing that you came when you did and I left with you. My plan may not have lasted long as I thought it would._

 _I heard of the report that you sent my father. I must say that I am quite impressed, even if he is not with the action taken. And for what I'm about to convey, my father is not with the action I'm taking either. Benjamin, I care no more on seeking Robert Rogers and getting answers from him. Not only I had a rare change of mind, but I must not think such revenge being a sensible woman and proper lady and a Washington. Most of all, a fellow spy for the cause, our Culper Ring. I need to tone it down a notch or two if I am to seek and gather enemy intelligence._

 _I will be attending some functions throughout this summer, and a ball in Philadelphia one day in this month—all will be good advantages to find out something useful. Philadelphia just being taken over however will probably delay our visit and be postponed for another date or location. Until then, I have nothing else planned. Oh, yes, I am keeping a close eye on my loyalist neighbors. I apologize for my interesting form of communicating, but I write as I speak._

 _In the meantime, I pray all of you stay safe and keep up spirits and stay hydrated this summer. Now the nurse part of me is seeking to write a prescription in a letter that was only supposed to relay to you my thanks and change of mind._

 _Sincerely, Lillian Washington_

 _PS: Or am I 'Agent 0'? While in Setauket, I found Abe's codebook and he had me as contact 'Agent 0.' Quite curious because I was never told that. I thought we were going to be better in communicating everything? I am only jesting, Ben. Even from my home I can see you fell for that._

Ben let out a long breath, with a timid smile on his face, before letting out light laughter after all of her words sunk in. It was like she was here speaking to him face to face. Some parts, he is a little ashamed to say, had him blushing madly. She wasn't… forward. Only open and care-free. Her trust in him shines through definitely.

The only thing that didn't sit right with him was her 'rare change of mind' on Robert Rogers interrogation from her. She didn't explain too much on that part other than being a proper lady and acting as such. She is already perfect, if he had any say. Different, and everyone has their flaws, but her mannerisms and character reflect the kind of person she is.

"Major, sir, more reports have arrived for you," a corporal steps into his tent handing out the bundle to him that he takes with a sigh, feeling the weight pull him down.

"Thank you, corporal."

He'll think more about her letter later, but for now he needs to return to more important work. When he gets a break, he will think about his response to her.

And Caleb better be near this camp and not have left as he said he was ready to do!

A break was nowhere in sight by mid-day. Benjamin had just got through more than half until another large bundle showed up at his tent. He had some bites of a decent meal, mostly vegetables which weren't his favorite, but he wasn't complaining. If the army taught him anything, food is food. He was grateful for everything he got.

* * *

It wasn't until nightfall he finished everything, and he called for the corporal to bring the reports back to His Excellency's desk. This required some trips, but eventually every piece of paper, except for Lillian's letter, was left on his cartable writing desk, and finally he was able to step outside, deciding to leave his coat on his cot.

The pressures of Washington and he not agreeing, and now Caleb and he not agreeing are causing him to resort to drinking some ale—or a sticky, hot cup of coffee that has been sitting out all day in the hot sun. Whatever pitcher he picked up off a stool and trickled whatever was left into a metal mug, he took a sip, and realized it was indeed ale. The pitcher was actually a bottle he also realized after his eyes adjusted to the night air and the orange fire pit near him with four men around it.

Only after taking a sip, he heard that the men were talking about Washington, the 'Thoughts of a Free Man' rumors and papers going around camp no less.

"I believe that it is better to die honorably in the field - than in a stinking hospital." – "I concur with that."  
"Cheers!"

Ben rolled his eyes as his back faced the men, hoping they won't say anything else on their agreements with anti-Washington rumor.  
"And this, this here, truer still. Listen."

 _Oi, here we go._ Ben thinks as he takes a larger sip of ale, and makes move to sit on the wooden stool, now facing the men hearing what one of them has to say. _Bradford._

" 'I believe that the proper methods of attacking, beating and conquering the enemy has never as yet been adopted by the commander-in-chief.' I couldn't have said it better myself, boys."

"Oh this should be added, 'all he has adopted is his frigid, insolent daughter who thinks herself too good for any of his soldiers no matter how much she rubs salt in their wounds," the only soldier with his coat on and red trim and hat sitting down says causing raucous laughter to emit from all of them.

Ben felt his fist clench around the mug, attaining whatever he could muster to not bend the metal mug in his hand as his eyes glared bayonets over at them. _Now that was uncalled for. How dare they insult her!_

"I have yet to have salt rubbed in my wound by her. I'll work on that this winter, or the next if it's too cold now that I know she'll be around yearly," Bradford says with a naughty smirk. "She's a nurse, good for many things. Her hands know what to do one can imagine."

Ben threw his drink out of the mug, and made to stand, but stopped himself from doing so hearing the other man who has been quiet speak up. Maybe he'll have some real sense to end the horrible conversation.

"Any whom, who do you think is the author?"

"Someone fed up, armed with common sense and the courage to speak out," Bradford smirks confidently.  
"Oi, Bradford," Ben slams his mug down and wipes his mouth with the side of his hand, straitening his posture and shoulders as he calmly leans over with the palms of his hands resting on his knees, warning lacing his voice.  
"You might want to be more careful with that. Your anonymous hero makes common sense sound a bit like treason. That's your commander that he's hacking at. Not that any of your own remarks on his daughter serve you any better, she's a lady and not to be spoken of in such manner. She has no place in any of this." Ben comes to a stand watching the three men sitting look down, mainly the one with the coat on who made the first comment of her. At first, they were startled not seeing him there, then for the fact that he was actually listening to them caught them off guard. Bradford voluntarily picks up a mug of his own and takes a sip, not sparing a look at Ben.  
"Not for much longer will he be our commander, I think," Bradford mumbles into his mug.  
"What? What did you just say?" Ben tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at the man, not sure he heard clearly.

Sitting the mug down, Bradford holds up a piece of paper, looking Ben in the eyes as he turns completely around, albeit just a head taller than Ben, Ben doesn't mind as he steps closer with his chest puffed out, and legs taking careful strides trying not to look argumentative.

"This letter is well-formed opinion based on fact. Our esteemed commander left his flank wide open at Brandywine," Bradford states matter of factly causing Ben to roll his eyes once more, a let his upper lip curl up. "He lost the battle, cost America her capital city. Is it treason to speak the facts in this army now?"

"Fine," Ben says, shaking his head, partially accepting his last sentence, but he presses on further. It still doesn't mean this man is forgiven for his lambasting verses. He needs to be set straight.  
"So who would you see as commander?"

"Congress would likely choose Gates," Bradford answers, once more, matter of 'factly.'  
"Gates, right. Sure, or perhaps your man," Ben, not taking any more of it walks until he is right in front of the man with his arms crossed. "Charles Lee-"  
"-Stand back," Bradford hisses, eyes becoming defensive.  
"-Who was captured while with his mistress _fact,"_ Ben practically spits in his face with eyes flaming with anger.  
"Who escaped the enemy on his own," Bradford rebukes.  
"What was she, a tavern wench?" Ben feigns laughter. "No wonder he's been so absent in the field.  
He's too busy playing with his whore pipe!" He gestures down at his lower extremities at his last retort, eyeing the man in the tricorn, same white undershirt and neck stock, and paired with yellow pants, near him sipping ale from the bottle. To Ben, even though it was all same regulated uniform, it would never be like looking in a mirror, particularly never looking like these men.  
"At least he has one. And the sons to prove it," Bradford says, setting his hands on his hips. "While poor George must content himself with collecting young men and hugging his estranged daughter close for warmth every snowfall."

Ben's jaw clenches as he jumps forward shoving Bradford in the chest with all the strength he has into the fire pit behind him.  
"Why, you- Hold him down," Bradford calls, rolling out of the fire with no flames licking him, just ash and flurries flying into the air.  
Ben was immediately held back after his violent move, and thrown to the ground with no time to stand back up after one of the other men punched him just for kicks, and Bradford walked over to him, put a leg on either side of him barely sitting on him, and begins punching him left and right.

Seeing a chance to block after what felt like one too many hits, he was numb after the first two, he raises his arms and one of his hands grabs hold of his fist threatening to escape his tight grasp and punch him once more.

"Hold him down! Hold him down!" The three men shove Ben back down when he sat upright. After the three men hold him down to the earth with arms spread out making him grown in pain feeling his jaw tense and their grip tight as if their nails are piercing through his skin, Bradford readies his fist to punch.  
"Now we're gonna shut that pretty mouth."  
But his hand is caught by Caleb's before he could move it, "With respect, sir, the only one who punches my friend is me."  
"Hey," Bradford can barely speak before Caleb clocks him in the center of his face making blood start trickling out of one of his sharp nostrils.

"Agh!" Ben rolls over feeling two other men leave him and the one man left only lessen his grip, so he rolls over on said man and punches him more than thrice before getting up to help his friend out in beating up the rest, reminding him briefly of school brawls; some that had actually happened in his college days.

Letting out a low growl, he sees the blue coated man with red trim, the one who made the insulting 'jest' of Lillian's honor, fighting with Caleb. So running behind up behind the man, Ben's left hand grabs the man's waist, and his right hand cups around the side of his neck before kicking the legs out from under him, and yanking his head back for a moments loss of air in his lungs, and he falls over with a choke and loud thud.  
"You like that, huh?" Caleb smirks regarding the crowd of soldiers that gathered around them, as both men ready their fists, but Ben catches Bradford's eye and bloody face.

"Wait, Caleb."

Ben's eyes narrow, as Bradford steps closer to him, not defensive or fists clenched, so he steps closer, fists ready in case the man is deceiving. But all that was shared were glares in silence, and Bradford walked away rubbing off whatever blood he could with his white sleeve, and the other men departed, so the fight ceased.  
"Hey there, boy," Caleb says with a cheery out of breath voice after walking away from the fight scene area, to relieve the remaining tension.  
"Thank you," Ben says gratefully and just as out of breath, feeling the pain swell in his chest, and his cheeks burn from the punches. "And you were right. You were right about Culper. It's not safe to make contact unless he's signaled. I won't move without you, all right?"

Caleb's mouth has a ghost of a smile etched on his tired face, staring at his friend with deference once more. A big 'I told you so' glazing his eyes.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, it's just a scratch," Ben touches his cut cheek, shrugging the minor abrasion off.  
"Are you all right, though?" Caleb asks a second time, a message hidden in his tone.

Ben looks at him with a tilt of his head before smiling calmly and admitting earnestly, "What, have I really been such an ass?"

"Well, yeah. You have," Caleb laughs lightly with Ben, even clapping each other on the shoulder.  
"I wish I could just walk up and ask that of Washington," Ben states, glancing back and forth between the main house and Caleb. " 'Are you all right, sir?' The man won't stand up for himself against his detractors. I cannot for the life of me understand why."  
"Well, you know these officer types. Hmm? Always under pressure, shouldering burdens us foot-wobblers don't know or can't see," Caleb's grin grows as Ben's does, giving him some sort of understanding that should clear his confusion all up. "Huh? Maybe give him some slack," Caleb winks, clapping his friend on the shoulder before walking off leaving Ben alone, standing still in deep thought.

"Oi, and write her back. With what you just went through that's some good motivation a'light," Caleb laughs at his friends beet red face and goes into a jog seeing him begin chasing after him.

"You went in my tent!"

"To look for you! I know you have trouble with talking to women!"

After catching up with his friend, quickly slowing to a walk feeling a headache take up his mind's eye, and his legs grow sore, he gestures Caleb to come closer to him to speak quietly.

"Caleb it's not like that, I'm not courting her nor do I have intentions to-"

"At least not at the moment-" Caleb cut in quickly with a smirk.

"Exact—No!" Ben's eyes widen. "Caleb, forget match-making and listen to this, please."

Caleb nods, "Aye."

"She's not after Robert Rogers anymore, she wants no part of it."

"Wait- are you sure you read that right?" Caleb points at his tent that their standing outside of and he helps himself inside and goes straight to his desk ignoring the protests from Ben of not reading _everything_. "Because from what I remember, she was avidly after him and quite vocal of her right to know why he killed her father. The broad needs to make up her mind."

"I know. She didn't go into much detail, she probably thought we wouldn't care as much—she sounds different, overall. I can't make of it," Ben says, the whole time looking down at his feet until he feels his hatless friend's eyes on him, eyes with a smirk of their own.

"As I said earlier, only this time, cut her some slack. She is after all younger than us, and probably realizing many things now after going through that Setauket skirmish. Growin' up more, so she can reach your _pretty mouth,"_ Caleb jest quoting what Bradford spat down at his friend before almost punching him.

Ben swallows bile, not processing anything of what Caleb said in that sentence.

"They talked about her, disdainfully and inappropriately tied into the insults of Charles Lee's insults to Washington."

Caleb's face tightens and eyes lose all playfulness.

Ben took his silence as word to continue, "I not only defended Washington's honor, but his daughter's as well. Calling her _'frigid and insolent who thinks herself too good for any of Wasington's soldiers no matter how much she rubs salt in our wounds_.' "

"No."

Ben continued on an enraged rant, "Then Bradford chimed in once more with his rat face and his irritating matter of fact voice _'I have yet to have salt rubbed in my wound by her. I'll work on that this winter, or the next if it's too cold now that I know she'll be around yearly. She's a nurse so she knows what to do with her hands._ If Washington were standing there he would have hung them by their toes then and there! I did just as I promised, defending the Washington's, and will continue to if it does happen again, which I pray it doesn't because those men will wish they were never born. This is not what we need in our fight for freedom."

"You said it," Caleb shakes his head, and clasps Ben's shoulder. "But hey, it's in the past now. You won, did right, and made your point."

"Pfft, win! It's a stalemate if anything; did you not see the look he gave me?" Ben looks at his friend in disbelief.

"I did, but Ben, calm down. You were punched senselessly; let it slowly sink in that you need to let it go and calm down. But tell her that."

"Tell her what? What? Why?"

"Don't be daft Benny –boy, that's a good conversation starter or an _interesting_ way to end the letter, with a hint of mystery that you did as you promised. Plus, she may work harder to get some good intel."

"She could confuse that for getting Robert Rogers and interrogating him about her family," Ben points out.

"Not unless you respond to that beforehand, in order with her texts," Caleb points to each section where the subject changes up.

"Ok, but I don't have an interest in her like that, Caleb. I don't… think of her as… She's a friend," Ben explains with trouble in finding the right words.

"Doesn't mean you can't be mysterious still, for the fun of it. What have you got to lose? It'll give her something to look forward to this coming winter to find out," Caleb says folding the letter and tossing it onto the desk.

Ben grins tiredly, feeling the pain everywhere now and predicting where the bruises will show up, sensing the pressure under his skin sting, "Says the man who wanted me to begin informing everyone of everything."

"And you should, but just this little brawl defending her honor when she isn't around, she won't expect to be told this."

"Alright," Ben laughs as Caleb pokes his chest in amusement.

* * *

 **Lilian's POV**

"Oh this is fine fabric, is it imported from France, my lady?" One of the women in our sewing circle asks me.

I am in the middle of both a charity event for the soldiers and creating women's fashion in the presence of seven other ladies. We'd sewn together a quilt and assembled 'care baskets' for the soldiers, and currently working on said dresses. I'm staying longer than intended.

I accidentally pricked my lilac robe a l'anglaise with tiny white flowers embroidered on it. The question caught me off guard in my inner musings. It is a beautiful gown, that 'brightens my complexion' my mother claims as it displays more cleavage than usual. However, the fabric was thin, but perfect for summertime.

The women aren't so bad of company, half are snobbish, and the other half are similar to me but not as outspoken.

"Yes Peggy, it is indeed. _Le centre de la mode,"_ (The centre of fashions) I return the young Schuyler sister's smile with fondness for the French culture and grandeur. "Have any of you ever been to France?"

Giggles of 'no' filled the room, but a couple of women answered 'yes.'

Holding back an eye roll, I look at Mary, Mary Floyd, the mean woman I had tea with last summer. Of course she went to France, with her older sister sitting next to her who is nice like her mother. It is striking to believe that they are actually related. Ironic enough though, Mary's older sister, Nicoll, pays no notice to her sister's tone towards me.

"We went because of our father's diplomacy meeting," Mary brags as her high roll updo of black hair shakes. "But it's not what we were there for."

Gasps from all around emitted out of our lips, even my own, but mine was out of displeasure just as Elizabeth Schuyler's gasp was because of how inappropriate this conversation is leading.

"Mary, I was married even then. It was mostly you and our half-sister Ann going around the main courtyard and being the subject of the courtiers of Versailles," Nicoll says with a shake of her head, and light giggle at all of our faces. "A shame no one of high class was one of them to actually court you."

I lick my lips in aversion for that assertion.

"I'm quite surprised to hear that actually, because Versailles is where the wealthiest reside. Unless you were in a courtyard outside of Versailles, then it is understandable you were with men that don't meet your standards," Angelica Schuyler speaks up, speaking my mind exactly in matching tenor.

Nicoll coughs lightly.

"Perhaps we were. It is the city of love nevertheless," Mary states with a thin smile.

I smirk from behind my cloth, having to raise it up to check if it's even, "That would be Paris. Paris is the city of love."

Laughter emits from the rest of the women, mostly from my brother's wife Nellie who rubs her large belly, she will be delivering soon.

"Lillian, have you ever been to France?" Mary looks at me crabby.

"No I haven't, sadly. I was offered to go many times before but not only is my family needed here, and I do not wish to go alone, but I have a fear of travelling overseas," I admit, surprisingly receiving nods of sympathy from the women, except from Mary.

"I am the same way, have no embarrassment in that, there are many who are like you," Elizabeth says with a comforting smile that I return with a nod of thanks. Her words meant well, but with her last phrase that there are many like me, it made me glum.

"Then how do you know what is and what isn't the city of love?" Mary asks contrarily.

"Because I listened to my mother's teachings when I was younger, just learning about women's fashion on what comes from where, and in the process of receiving my college education I learned the French language as a required course of study, and the professor always stated before class begun, 'France is the country of beauty, glamour and absolute integrity.' Paris is its own exquisite entity."

Silence was met after my polite and honest answer at her stupid question, only the sounds of feet tapping the carpet, and pins and needles going through fabric.

"I think my sister meant to say that the city of love can be whatever one makes it to be, like Russia could be someone's city of love," Nicoll says suddenly, making me swallow a retort at her silly statement.

"Yes, I agree. It is whatever you make it to be," I just say to end this awkward conversation.

"I can't believe the ball in Philadelphia was cancelled. Those British, taking everything in their wake," Nellie exclaims tearing the attention off of me, appreciatively.

A chorus of dejected 'aw's' filled the room, but we were all met with the knowing face of Nellie that had us hopeful.

"I was able to pull some strings, however, and plan a ball at the White House plantation my husband and I are still residing at in New Kent County, Virginia. The same people are invited and the space will be just enough. What do you think ladies?"

"Yes!" We all answer in unison with bright faces, for a moment making me rethink Elizabeth's words to me, maybe I am like everyone else, well, women. As if the universe planned it, I caught Mary's eyes that sent the snottiest look my way. _I swear, what did I ever do to you woman?! I don't understand for the life of me._

"Excuse me ladies, but I will go fetch our maid, Maria, to fix us up some more tea and confections," I say standing up, after setting my tools and cloth aside, and smoothing the front of my gown before walking slowly in the direction to the front of the house into the kitchens.

I am just glad to get away from that group of women for a while, particularly the Floyd's, the others aren't bad at all! The Schuyler sisters have always been nothing but kind to me. It wasn't that I disliked being with women either, but sometimes I found talk of new stomachers and hats and handsome soldiers tedious. Who cared what the new French fashions were when there was a war going on? Men were fighting and dying for the cause—and all most of these women care about are material things. Even worse, they didn't seem to respect the men as soldiers. Instead, they saw them as potential suitors. Who in their right mind would get married in wartime? What if they lost their husbands to battle wounds or to starvation? It was as if all of this was a game to them, and I wish they would take it seriously.

The comments Mary made after I left on escorts to the changed ball location made all the women speak up on who they wish, and some they will actually force, to go with them.

Not once have I ever given it much thought.

Well… I admit. When I was a little girl I dreamed of one day being asked to a dance, but that never happened because I always turned them down. I either thought they were not worthy of me, or I wanted to just be alone with myself and not socializing with the public.

The depression of losing my real parents and my sister caused this, but now that the war is going on that my father is leading our side, I have to assume the public role my mother is: a gracious symbol for America.

Either I am going to show up at my sister in law's ball alone and then assume my role there, or I will find an escort of high class to whisk me off my feet just for the night.

Truthfully, both are possible in my mind. It is time I grow up.

I need to learn to curb my enthusiasm, but I still wish I had the freedom to express my ideas in the way that men could.

Sometimes I long to be like my elder half-brother Jacky. He was able to go fight for his liberty and not have to worry about finding a wife. Well, he has a wife, and he isn't doing much in the war. A messenger every now and then but not in the real battle, he is a homebody and believes a man in the Washington family must stay to ensure safety.

…

..

Why did a woman's entire life and self-worth revolve around how well she could obtain a husband? Men were never told that their life goals were to find a wife and raise a family. I always hated that double standard, and was incredibly jealous of my brother for being able to make his own choices.

"Lillian, why do you look crossed?" my mother asks me from her place in the kitchen with Maria, in the middle of speaking.

"I'll tell you later. I just came to ask for more tea and sweets in the parlor, we're all out," I say.

* * *

After giving up his seat for Gen. Benedict Arnold at the dinner party Washington held in the main house, Benjamin left the house and made direction for his tent, since it is nighttime and he'd be returning to it even after the dinner if he remained there.

He wasn't uncomfortable or embarrassed to give up his seat next to His Excellency and across from secretary of Beaumarchais Théveneau de Francy for the well honored soldier Arnold is, and he wasn't expecting anyone to add another chair for him.

It all ended up this way because General Charles Lee read "The Thoughts of a Freeman" to all of the officers at dinner, and Washington interrupts asking Lee to read it to the entire table. Lee commences, but is interrupted by the arrival ofArnold, who tears the letter in half and defends Washington passionately. It's exactly what was written in Ben's heart. All inspired by Arnold's words, Ben started to pound the table with the other officers in support of Washington.

Now that he is back at his tent, with no tasks or assignments to do, he grabs a fresh piece of parchment and goes to his desk, to begin drafting a response to Lillian Washington, a huge honor to be given to write her back by word of her father.

 **A/N: Soooo, a lot of stuff heating up for the next chapter! Poor Lillian, a confused young woman and trying to grow up along with being herself. The next chapter will definitely be one of my favorites because Lillian may or may not get an escort for the ball and some stuff may or may not go down with Mary Floyd, who is *cough* Ben's wife in real life.… Small world. BUT it is not Benjamin, sadly, who will escort Lillian. Then who could it be? Find out soon , so stay tuned! Thank you for the wonderful reviews, I'm so glad to hear you all are still enjoying it and love it as much as I do.**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	20. Chapter 20: Every Rose Has Its Thorn

**Chapter 20:**

 **August 1777**

The mid-day sun shines hot rays into the yellow bedroom of Lillian, making the water sitting in the pitcher even too hot to sip from.

"This dress is humongous," she inhales at the new dress she holds up in front of her, her image being displayed in the mirror in front of her, or parts of her since the full length, cap sleeve, cornflower blue ball dress with purple accents, and swirly needlework takes up the whole mirror.

"You were the one who thought of the design and picked the fluffy fabric," Maria comes up behind her, extending the dress skirt some more with a proud face of her finished work.

"But I didn't dream of it to be this big! But it is so beautiful…" Lillian's smile never leaves her face.

"I can definitely assure you no other woman will have the same dress, even in similar style," Maria smiles back at her. "The perfect color for the Commanding General's daughter. Blue for the Continental army."

"Thank you," Lillian pulls her into a sisterly hug, the dress caught in between them in the process causing Maria to jump back with a sharp inhale.

"No this mustn't be wrinkled. It'll be in a trunk all on its own. And you're welcome, Lilly. So, has anyone written you in the past days?"

Lillian shakes her head, "Benjamin responded to my letter, finally. But of course he wouldn't ask me to the ball, he is busy on the field as well as the other soldiers."

"I'm sure not all are that busy. It's been a hot summer and it's rather slow like the winter months. How about that Benedict Arnold fellow?" Maria smirks glancing at her desk where a letter is hidden underneath other pieces of paper.

She laughs, "Oh no, he is a General! He has no time for me, and is wounded in the leg. He certainly cannot dance with me or walk me around properly. Besides, he is mostly needed by my father, because he said so himself."

"So… you are going without an escort, then?"

Lilly sighs, "Yes. When I get there I suppose I'll meet a fine man without a woman at his side to be my companion the rest of the night."

Maria steps closer to her friend after packing away the blue dress neatly, "But you must like him. Don't settle for less, but don't like them for their wealth only."

The young woman stands silently, looking down at her feet before moments later answering, "I know I'll marry for love one day. But this is only for the night. I have to look good to the public, Maria. It's what I'm expected to do as much as it pains me to say."

Maria nods her head, biting her lip at the reply, "I'll leave you to the rest of your packing. I'll go fetch your soaps and other amenities."

"Consisting of my nurse tools," she calls after her, only not receiving any response or laughter from her friend. It is an ongoing amusement for Maria to laugh at her serious and morbid nurse self when she asks for her tools, or she speaks 'nurse talk.'

"Fine have an attitude with me."

After sitting on her bed for some time, knowing she has the rest of the afternoon to pack, she decides to walk over to her vanity, take out some parchment from one of the drawers, and start writing a response to Benjamin's letter she received at the end of July.

 _Miss Lillian Washington,_

 _I know we agreed no such formalities in our speaking should be required, however in writing to you, I feel it is most respectful and proper to address you as the grandiose sensible woman you are. You may continue in calling me Benjamin, or Ben, in your writing if you wish because I have no bother with it._

 _You are most welcome, my lady. Even though I keep saying there are no thanks required to be doing the honorable effort to ensure your safety. I genuinely apologize for the distress it has caused you to almost witness a full-on battle, it was never in our intentions to cause you so._

 _I agree it was in God's blessing that we came at the most unadulterated time. "For there is a time and a way for everything, and For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven," (Ecclesiastes 8:6 & 3:1). I apologize that __the pious part of me is seeking to write a liturgy to you in a letter that is only supposed to relay to you my thanks for helping our cause with an irrefutable sense of courage, and to make sure I read your previous letter correctly._

 _You do not wish to confront Robert Rogers anymore? Caleb and I understand your reasoning, but to go from passionately wanting to seek the man out for killing your father to closed off and uncaring of it? Forgive me if my words come off as forward or rude, I am only ensuring that as a member of the ring that you are alright. There is no need to 'tone it down a notch' to seek enemy intelligence, you are fine the way you are._

 _I insist, however, that you do not go to Philadelphia since it is under British control now. It is in my hopes that you will be able to attend a ball this summer to ease your worries, and find out any form of intel. Mr. Sackett reminds you to make connections and he still has plans for you in New York, that I ultimately disagree with, but he will discuss with you when you arrive this winter for you to decide._

 _In the meantime, we have all stayed hydrated and safe, and have received the care packages from the women in your area, and my thanks come from all of us in the Continental Army._

 _Sincerely, Benjamin Tallmadge_

 _PS: Agent 0? No, you were not given this alias. Abe must have only added you in his book for convenience, which has been burned… Yes, we did agree on communicating better, you make me laugh, my lady, which is why I regret to inform you that along with the book being burned, Ensign Albert Baker was burned as well, in the farmhouse fire that was cause by 'my men' and we shot Baker. Abe actually shot him because Baker found the codebook unlawful to the crown. I apologize for the grief it may cause you. But on brighter terms, I fulfilled the promise I made to you…_

 _And I shall keep fulfilling it._

 _.._

 _Benjamin is a gentlemen_ _i_ s all that echoed in Lillian's mind. He saw her as the woman she is and accepted it! He is the friend she always dreamed of having in her life… Well Baker used to be that friend…

 _I hope he doesn't betray me as he did._

She shakes her head at the thought. No, she trusts both Ben, and Caleb for that matter.

She did sob a whole night, however, when she read the P.S. message about Baker. Baker didn't have to go that way, and he didn't have to make the wrong choice at the wrong time.

But, _"there is a time and a way for everything, and For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven."_ Benjamin's moving words made her smile, however, and it was this phrase that calmed her down in her grief. It also reminded her of years ago, when she was younger than now, and told her father George the first night she stayed at Mt. Vernon that everything happens for a reason.

 _Just like going to a ball without an escort. Everything happens for a reason._

And with this thought as she finishes writing her response to Ben's letter to inform him more of why she doesn't want anything to do with Robert Rogers, it is because she needs to be a lady, and it is wrong to seek such revenge. Robert Rogers will receive another form of bad chance one day.

Or so she hopes.

* * *

 ** _White House Plantation. New Kent County, Virginia_**

The cries of a baby fill the upstairs hallways of Jacky and Eleanor's home, and the cheers from the women 'it's a girl!' soon squeal after.

Eleanor pants and sweats bullets in the birthing chair, feeling their servant clean her lower extremities from the blood loss of delivering her daughter, their first child, finally.

"Let me see her!" Eleanor squints, beaming at the sight of her daughter in Lillian's arms, crying softly just as newborns do.

"Here… you go," Lillian carefully places the baby in the woman's arms with an unfading smile, and tears in her eyes.

"Eleanor," Jacky enters their master room hesitantly.

"She is here," Eleanor whispers happily over to him.

"My daughter… I have a daughter!" Jacky cries as the same smile engulf his whole face as he goes to kiss his wife and look down at the crying child in her arms. "Her name will be beautiful just as she, what shall it be, Nellie? Yours? Nellie?"

"No, I was thinking Elizabeth," Nellie says. "Timeless, classic, and Christian."

"Elizabeth…" Jacky tries the name out as he nods in approval.

"Let me see my grand-daughter!" Martha hurries in after hearing the news downstairs, caught off guard because she only knew Nellie wasn't feeling well and had to go take a nap. But the feeling of sickness was actually the cramps signifying she is in labor.

"Oh she's beautiful, just beautiful," Martha smiles and hums sweetly at the baby in her daughter in law's arms.

Lillian was watching the exchange from the doorway, near the chest of drawers where the water pitcher and bowl is on top of to wash her messy hands from being the midwife in the delivery process.

"She'll be a strong one, just like her mother," she says making them laugh lightly.

"Yes she will! Yes she will!" Nellie baby talks down to Elizabeth.

"Lillian we need you downstairs to finish tidying up the ball room area," Maria returns. "People will begin arriving by mid-day tomorrow, and with Nellie and John having their child and not tending to the catering and you and your mother's hairdressing in the morning, we can't get the rest done in the morning. It has to be all done tonight."

"Yes of course. I'm coming right now," Lillian nods her head following Maria out the room calling back to the new happy parents once more with an elated smile, "Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you!"

* * *

~ **_The next morning, almost noon_**

Hissing and muttering incoherent words under her breath, Lillian grips the bedpost while Maria tightens the strings of her corset before she puts on her dress for the ball.

A loud gasp escapes her lips frightening her mother standing out in the hallway.

"Is everything going alright in there?" Martha asks on the other side of the door.

Lillian shakes her head, ignoring Maria's apology for pulling the last of the strings through and through even harder, "It's difficult to say."

"It is the latest fashion in London my dear."

"Well the women in London must have learned to not breathe!"

Out in the hallway her mother shakes her head slightly, looking at the man standing next to her with an amused grin on his powdered, rosy face.

"She is quite dramatic as of late, Freddy. Who knows what hairstyle she'll tell you to create."

"Not as dramatic as I, I assure you Mrs. Washington. And may I say, it is not a bad quality to possess," Freddy's voice drawls with his strong English accent, but easy-going tenor.

"Indeed. But her, she gets carried away with it. You'll have your hands full," Martha laughs lightly before the door is opened by Maria, holding her sewing kit in her arms, bowing her head at the two people.

"She is ready."

"Oh Lilly!" Martha exclaims with a smile as big as the moon as she crosses the floor to hug her daughter adorning a large blue ball gown. "You look so beautiful! So elegant!"

"Thank you, mother! You look more than beautiful!" Lillian exclaims with a beam, tears pricking her eyes out of excitement for tonight. "I wish father were here."

" _Oh Lilly! Wow_!" A man's voice breaks the chorus of the women chatting and giggling.

Lilly jumps at the use of her name on an unfamiliar voice of a man, who approaches her with such forwardness, she had no time to look at his face. Mainly, her widened eyes were on his hands rising up to her face, only to be placed on the top of her head… gripping her hair ever so casually.

"Oh, you must be the hairstylist," Lillian calms down, realizing it must be him. Her mother wouldn't have brought up a man to play with her hair… well, maybe she would… She'd kill her if she heard these thoughts she was having!

"Yes I am. You are now in Freddy's care to do your hair over-the-top; make it a grand extraordinaire of your overall appearance. Not top your dress but in rival, and making your little, pretty face stand out the most. Oh the things I can do with these locks! You have so much of it," Freddy exclaims, running his fingers through her hair, playing with the ends of it making her blush red at being touched this way. If it was any other man doing this, they'd get in much trouble, but for a hairdresser doing it, it is more than fine.

And by listening to this man's voice, one can tell he has been doing this for some time, and has experience with many women.

"I'll leave you two to it!" Martha voices taking her leave, passing by the servants bringing up the rest of Freddy's supplies.

"Turn around," he commanded her, but it done so little because he already forced her around, with eager eyes to get started.

"Wonderful fashion, hoop petticoat—Lillian you are going to be the cat's meow looking this regal."

"Regal? It's not too much is it? I'm not that dramatic!" She finds her voice to interrupt the man who is speaking in circles; he has to run out of breath at some point!

"Well obviously you are! You designed it yourself did you not? Layers and layers and layers of sheer skirts and underskirts—a whole army would be lucky to get under these skirts."

"I beg your pardon!" She blushes, flabbergasted at his admission, but she found herself laughing. He spoke to her, and used her name without any title as if they were already close friends!

"Dear, you are begging for a man to sweep you off your feet in this dress, but with this- this lovely face," he turns her face towards her mirror by the chin, "will decrease that attraction ever so slightly, seeing you are not one to fool around with. Not that you're Washington's daughter already."

In this time she can finally look at his reflection in the mirror. He is a genteel looking man with sharp features and thin dark eyebrows, a complete contrast to his white wig and striking blue eyes filled with gossip- a look Lillian learned this summer what it looks like all too well.

"So I have a serious face? You take me seriously?"

"Of course."

"That's great to hear."

He laughs loudly, "Be careful though. You can scare people off if you don't mask your emotions just right."

"Story of my life."

He gestures her to sit down on the chair in front of the vanity with cases of hair accessories, hair extensions, makeup, and a variety of pastes and combs to achieve her aspired hairstyle.

"Lucky for you I am used to serious clients, however most of them are men, there are a handful of women who typically 'seriously' go right into saying what they want."

Lillian shrugs, "I'm not the typical woman."

A glint shines in his eyes, making the young woman uncomfortable fearing what he is thinking. The main thought crossing her mind is that whatever she says he'll use for his own gossip.

 _Which will not be allowed._

"So… You're a professional yes?" She asks before eyeing an inscription on one of his cases reading _New York_. "From New York?"

"Yes, my lady."

"The greatest city in the world, no wonder a great man as you is called upon for styling great do's for many upper classmen at high costs. So you may do whatever I say?"

"Yes that is the perks of being a _pro_. I can do whatever pleases you. I am wondering where you are going with this."

She grabs his wrist gently, just enough to stop him brushing her hair to have his attention.

"Then you must promise me something or I will not let you do my hair and receive your final payment," she tells him with the same glint in her own eyes.

He tilts his head curiously, "Whatever may that something be?"

"Whatever I say may not be repeated in any way, including gossip or rumor. It is to be kept in this room only between you and I."

He exhales with mirth, "You could have just said so. My lips are sealed, _Princess_."

She smiles, both pleased with his promise, and the endearment he used, princess, which is what Caleb Brewster calls her. Supposedly he is doing well, she hasn't heard otherwise from Benjamin.

"Now, that aside, I can get started!" Freddy finishes detangling her wavy hair. "What were you thinking to do?"

"I normally do not like updos, or too… high masterpieces," she gestures with her hand the height she doesn't want to have.

He hums and nods his head, fingering her hair, "They do cause headaches, both for the woman and I because I have to go layer by layer and grease it for it to stick in place."

"Definitely do not want that, it'll be a long night. And I want to try avoiding grease as much as we can."

"Will do."

"Yet… it sounds like the more grease you have, the more dramatic it is. And you said it shouldn't top the dress, but rival it."

"Exactly," he hums, walking around her to his trunk on the ground, retrieving a leather-bound book with pictures of hairstyles ranging from men to women in all sorts of styles. "But some pastes are strong enough to hold better than grease, and I can give the illusion of volume without piling all your hair up. You do not need extensions, I will say, you have enough hair already, and the style you want will do just fine."

She nods her head, listening to him tell.

"You are taller than most women I've come across, but petite. It mustn't be too high, which may not bother you at all it sounds like."

"No it doesn't. I like some volume, but I like having some hair down in a lock or two. Perhaps just a regular rococo high roll. I apologize I can't remember the name of it, and I speak French which is sad."

He shakes his head, "There is no worry in not remembering. This is why I have this." He opens up the book towards her, pointing at one hairstyle he deems best for her. "You have silky tresses, not frizz which is what women who adorn the traditional rococo styles have. I'm not going to give you frizzy hair though-that'll take all day—"

"And damage hair. How can a woman want frizzy hair?" She asks stunned.

"All for the latest fashion, they'll do whatever it takes. But you can pull of any look and maybe even set a trend of your own."

She laughs, "I wish. That's near the end of my list on what to do in life."

"You are something, Lillian. How about this one? It is quite common for the ladies in your age and is similar to the one you are describing."

" _A la Recherché_ ," she reads aloud in French. "Yes! Except for the hat, not hat. Lower the one side to where it is even, and to just place a hairpiece—a feather perhaps for décor."

"Yes Miss Washington, I know exactly what you imagine," he beams, beginning to style her hair by pinning up the top layer and starting at the bottom.

"So are you originally from New York?"

"Yes, it is where I am from, but with the summer-fall being 'ball season' I travel to meet my appointments wherever they live. Of course there are some 'dead years' where not many events happen, especially with the war going on, so I remain in New York most of the time then."

 _Interesting._

"Which part of New York?"

"The heart of the city itself."

Her eyes widen, "There are many redcoats there! How do you not get caught-"

"You assume I'm a Patriot?"

"Well you are here, doing the Washington ladies hair. And I can imagine you being questioned before coming in."

"Hmm, that I was. Seems like I'm being questioned by you now."

"It is conversation," she corrects him.

The corners of his lip quirk up for a millisecond, responding, "I am a registered Quaker. The redcoats think I side with them, though. Or _we_ I should say, _Quakers_. But being a hairdresser, or any people's work to tend to their needs, they know we fool with the American colonies and their officers and ladies for their balls, we must make the money, and we make a lot of it. They try ignoring it so to say, and since we outwardly display our devotion to their side of the war, and Quakers are peaceful and harmless, they protect us."

"So… you're safe? In a sense?"

"… Yes I suppose that's a good word for it."

"And you, yourself, you are neutral in when it comes to sides of the war?" She asks next, causing him to stiffen.

"You really like the deep, juicy talk don't you?"

"Of course, I'm a serious person, Freddy, like we discussed earlier. Am I scaring you yet?"

"No! You're so petite!" he answers with a chuckle, but no smile crosses his face. It remains stoic.

"My bite isn't though."

She hears him swallow nervously, which partly makes her feel bad for putting him on the spot. But she needs to know all about him, know what he _believes_ so he can probably help her.

"You remind me much of Peggy Shippen when you speak like that."

This made me let out a little chuckle, "We were like sisters when we used to visit each other. No wonder why we got along so well, our minds are practically the same, but we are indeed very different people on how we act with our thinking."

She jumps when he moves in front of her, blocking her view of the vanity and he crouches down, looking like he is perching on her lap facing her.

"You are very defensive, which isn't allowed when I am styling. You must be relaxed, and trusting," he voices with challenging eyes.

"I am merely asking you questions as we have gossip of our own, which I don't take part in much."

"Clearly."

"Freddy... Answer my question or I'll change my hairstyle."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps.

She continues, flipping through the pages of his book, "You mentioned Peggy Shippen, you are close with her, obviously. The portrait of her hair in your book on her own page is more proof. While she is an old friend of mine, she is also on the other side of the war with Loyalist tendencies. What do you tell her or anyone around her?"

"I tell them a white lie of course. She saw me as one of her best friends before the revolution, so I have no trouble in losing trust from her. Now, why are you delving into my background? I want to know more about you."

"And I'll tell you. I'm only seeing how far I can go, and see if you are valuable to me, which you are," Lillian says with her eyes shut as he teases her hair, but slows down, processing her words.

"Valuable for what? Being your best friend too and giving you free hair appointments?"

"Excellent question," she smirks letting out a little giggle, and her eyes peeking open only a little to gauge his reaction: unchanged from when he walked in, only more curious now.

"Now my story is a long one…" she begins telling him how she became George and Martha Washington's daughter as he styled her hair, quietly listening attentively. His ears grew keener when she began talking about college and her course of study on healing, but she kept out the blood study part knowing it will most likely scare him off.

"What does this have to do with me being valuable to you? As you so phrase it," He asks after she finishes her story.

"To tell you what kind of a person I am and how involved of a person I became, but only so much things I'm allowed to be involved in for the cause. And one of those things is a spy ring, in charge of gathering intelligence from the enemy discreetly."

He drops his brush, accidentally from losing his grip, and out of surprise from her answer, "I- I'm not sure I can believe that… Can I?"

"It's a serious subject to be spoken of by a lady, and as we said, I am a serious person. Now are you scared?" She asks him directly now, turning her face to face his.

"A little…"

"Don't you mean _petite_?" she jokes using his favored word, making his mouth part wide and let out mirthful laughter.

"I'm not that surprised so to say," he recovers back to his gossipy, generous composure. "I figured the rebels would not be far behind from the redcoats in forming a spy channel. Inconspicuous things like that are easily found out about every time."

Lillian nods her head, "They are. But as for my ring, we are trying to keep it that way."

"Then why are you telling me?" He says beginning to apply paste to another layer of her hair. "I'm the last person you'd want to tell things like this to. You see how we are talking and words slip easily from my lips? With other clients, I could mistakenly slip your name—"

"No you wouldn't because you said you promised none of our talk in this room will be repeated anywhere else in any form!" She rebuked, trying to stay calm. _I know he's good for this…_

"In speaking of that, are you meaning to ask me something of greater importance?" He finally asks, making Lillian draw out a long breath before she answers evenly.

"I need your help in getting intelligence from the enemy. Your position in all these parts of society and people's lives is the perfect chance to gather this information to help end this war once and for all. I need you to be my inside source, Freddy. And I'm asking you as a friend," she turns her head to look at him, looking down at her in her chair with cautious eyes.

"Not many people, men even, are this open to me on our first meet. See, this is how things should be. Meeting people so smoothly like this. I wish I could be as open as you are as I really am, but in order to be the proper lady mixed with the other things I told you about, I can't be too quick to trust. But you are one of the few who has earned it so quickly."

He looks back down to her hair after staring into her eyes for moments, "Let's get back to your hair. It must be finished before afternoon. I need to be thinking."

"Of course. I apologize," she says turning back around, folding her hands together in her lap, looking down at them as he flips her over her face to finish applying bits of paste with his paintbrush.

After finishing applying paste, and pinning, weaving hair as he went, he was silent the whole time except for his nose and mouth inhaling and exhaling every few minutes.

In the end, which was an hour later, he held up a face cone to block her face in order to apply a sheer powder to keep the hair up just for the rest of the day.

Her mother walked back in, to see the final creation, and stopped midway into the room watching her daughter stand up from her chair and turn to face her with a bright smile and teary eyes.

"Is it alright?"

"It is perfect!" Martha's lips press together in a sweet smile, eyes tender at the look of confirmation for her whole look reminding her of late Patsy when she used to run to her room and ask if it was all fine. Martha prays silently in her thoughts to Providence above for Lillian being in her life, and George's, and begs no one will take her away from them.

"Freddy is our official hairdresser indeed," Martha continues. "I already confirmed later dates for next summer because we will be having a ball of our own."

"That's so far away," Lillian laughs at her mother's planning ahead before asking Freddy. "And you know you're open for those dates?"

"First come first serve, and I never have any plans except for this fall. I will be at the Shippens ball in Philadelphia," he answers, betraying no hint of the conversation he had with Lillian an hour ago.

"Tell them we said hello and if they are doing well. We hope to see them one day soon in time," Martha informs Freddy kindly, waving in the servants to begin taking his trunks and cases out of the room.

"Of course Mrs. Washington that I will. And thank you both for giving me your service, I appreciate it."

"You are most welcome," both women chorus with thankful smiles, but Lillian adds to her thanks causing her mother to roll her eyes and leave the room with the servants.

"You're one of a kind, Freddy. I thank you for putting up with me."

"I'm used to it. It was a pleasure to be in your presence."

"And I look forward to you _helping_ me in future events?" she emphasizes 'help', posing her words part question and part statement unsure of what he has decided to do, brushing some loose strands of hair off his coat.

He places his hand on top of hers on his shoulder, only to draw it back and place a kiss on it with narrowed eyes, while slipping a piece of paper into her hand, "As do I look forward to working with you. It is my pleasure, Lillian."

 _No way, he accepted! He'll help the cause and give her intelligence!_

"Write me, but not too often. I can't scare off my suitors and give off the wrong message," he says as he make his way out the room.

"And don't utter anything-"

"I got you honey!"

Her hard laughter at him sounding like a woman had her in tears, an elated feeling filling her up, only with more anticipation for what tonight will hold for her.

"Don't tell me," her mother walks back in, having heard their little conversation. "You took a fancy to him?"

"Wait, what? No!" Lillian shakes her head at her mother blatantly, being careful to not shake her head to much to ruin her hair in one of the fanciest hairstyles she has ever had. And she tucks the piece of paper he gave her into her side pocket.

"Oh… Alright, it just sounded…"

"Yeah I can see how it sounded like flirting, but he is a playful flirt already!" She giggles.

"He is. Not that I had no bother if you had an interest in him, you're free to love who you want even if he is a hairdresser, which is full of perks! But it just surprised me mostly because he is a homosexual…"

"Mother!"

"He told me! We got on the subject of my husband, and then other officers… And that was when I asked him if he had a woman in his life."

"Oh dear," Lillian laughs.

* * *

~ _That evening_ **Lillian's POV**

I heard footsteps of boots and the familiar click of heels walk up behind me, but I made no reaction to it as I pretended to listen to the orchestra, ignoring the looks of women and men as well as meeting their eyes, not wanting to see the prejudgment, lust, rudeness, or fake smiles in them. Some meant well, and kind people were in the mix, but they were not near the orchestra this moment.

The ball itself was going very well by planning of Eleanor "Nellie", who is with her newborn baby and husband at this time not enjoying the ball they thrown, sadly. But they do not mind because this is one of the happiest times of their life right now with their new daughter.

"I thought you hated this song," my mother stated plainly behind me, but I feel the smile in her voice knowing she is up to something. She definitely brought over a man to set me up with.  
"If I ignore everything all together, and pretend it is all silence, it's actually quite beautiful. Especially when they go on break every five minutes," I say jokingly, causing her to have her usual light giggle, but a deep chuckle grabs my attention and I turn around to meet… A chest of a soldier, a tall soldier in a blue coat and gold epaulettes.

"You are right Mrs. Washington, she is impulsively outspoken. Though not all the time I'm sure," he says with a hint of Scottish intonation.

I meet his contrasting light blue, intelligent eyes on an oblong oval face, a hat with green cockade atop his light brown-haired head, almost a dim auburn color. At first glance, I could've mistaken him as my father with his hair styled as so with curls over his ears, but he is much younger. And good looking…

"Perhaps they will play a song to your liking the rest of the night after their short break," the man said with a kind smile, applauding with my mother, the rest of the room, and I at the finish of the piece. The talking then continued, louder now. "I will gladly go make a recommendation for you since I know one of the musicians playing tonight."

I laughed lightly, "No its fine, I was only joking when I said that. I could never hate a song, dislike maybe, but not hate. That particular piece may have been purely simple, boring to many, but it had its own distinct loveliness and melody."

"Much like you, my lady," the man said while obtaining a charming grin at my blush. Too overheated I didn't hear my mother take her leave from us.

"Why… thank you, sir," I bow my head kindly not forgetting my manners. "I apologize if I do bore you, however-"

"No not at all!" He quickly interrupts apologetically. "That is not what I meant. I meant to play off of your words, saying you have a distinct loveliness and melody, and _purely simple_."

"I try."

"Normally I end up not too fond of the lady their mother's take me to meet, so desperate. But Martha Washington, I knew something was brewing of importance, I wasn't going to be fooled this time…"

"Lillian Washington. A pleasure to make your acquaintance," I responded with a polite smile, and let him take my hand in his to place a kiss upon it keenly.

"Miss Lillian Washington; My name is Alexander Hamilton, Lieutenant Colonel, at your service, and tis' a pleasure to make of your acquaintance as well," he finished introducing himself after fully bowing gentlemanly. "I've heard many admirable things about you from your father, His Excellency, whenever I am at headquarters."

Continued blushing on my face, I respond, "I pray nothing embarrassing, he can speak so much sometimes it's surprising he doesn't fall short of breath."

He gave a slight chuckle at my honest admission, "I do not see how a college diploma, a bachelor in medicine is embarrassing," he leans to my ear to finish in a whisper, "nor taking part in the war with collecting intelligence from the enemy. What a brave and beautiful soul you are."

"I can say the same to you, Mr. Hamilton, being so brave to already lean into my face and whisper sweet-nothings in my ear," I take out my white lace fan with dark blue embroidery to cover my shy smile, but Alexander's hands wrap around mine holding the fan.

"But it is true, and you should be told every day. Your father mentions your name when anyone is around, he loves you so. And a smile like yours, shining white and bright like pearls inside a clams tongue, should not be covered up by this renowned unnecessary accessory," he says folding my fan back up gently and politely, and encouraging me to place it back into one of my hidden pockets, which I do.

I look up at him with high admiration at his boldness and let a smile spread across my face, "Thank you, sir."

"You do not need to thank me for stating the obvious. If I may, my lady, may I have the honor of being your escort the rest of the night?"

Speechless at his sudden forwardness, and surprised at his proposal, I blink rapidly, "Mr. Hamilton! What if I came with an escort? He would not like this."

"Miss Washington, if you had an escort, he wouldn't have left your side, leaving you alone for other men to gawk at. Besides, your mother brought me over here to meet you because you are alone on this hot summer's night at a splendid ball, and what a chance happening this is," he radiated his upturned lips and the little teeth he shown down at me. "I arrived alone as well."

"Well, in that case, lead on. Yes, you may be my escort. It's an honor, sir," she takes his offered hand as he takes it to lead her onto the dance floor.

"The honor is all mine, my lady," he replies as he takes off his hat, giving it to a servant walking past him, and readies his posture for a waltz by placing his left hand at her waist, and his right hand grasping hers at the appropriate angle; an angle that gave Lillian a view over his broad shoulders to a table near them, which had Mary Floyd sitting with the guests there, smirking at her foully.

* * *

"Tell me more about you, Miss Washington," Alexander asks eagerly when he escorts me to a table in the back where officers are sitting with their proper escorts, all held in high regard.

I blush at his eagerness, "Mr. Hamilton, I've told you everything but my private life already! You must tell me more about you now. Like where is your family from?"

"That is unimportant," he answers while taking a gulp of some wine, as if prepared for that questioned.

"I see," I say taking a glass of wine next to his and begin sipping from it slowly, unsure how to speak to this man. He seems open… Not as open as Freddy, but just enough to speak delicately with. Then the feeling of uneasiness by the people on the other side of the room stirs in me… Staring at me, judging me, rumoring untrue words about me… How do I know that? Well, a handful of women are whispering and pointing at me with critical eyes.

 _Maybe they're saying how pretty you are?_ The positive part of me says.

 _No, no they definitely aren't saying that._

A warm hand on my hand in my lap startles me, spilling some of the wine on the table with a gasp.

"Are you alright?" He asks me. His hooded blue eyes fixated on me solely while I'm trying my hardest to force all my blushing away from receiving the attention of such an honorable figure, both in me and my family's eyes (especially my father's). My father made him aide-de-camp, which is what Alexander told me as we danced the waltz. An aide-de-camp is a personal assistant, a 'right-hand man,' visibly showing my father's absolute trust in him even more.

Hamilton's words of sweet nothings towards me as we danced enhanced his perceived precociousness and charm, which in turn heightened his reputation as a political prodigy. He is so young too! Only two years older than I! (He acts much older though which has me thinking he may be a tad older. Perhaps he is just very mature, which is a good quality). It is what my mother keeps telling me; it is a perfect age to be set up with if I was to court or marry anyone.

Courting. I've been giving it much more thought of late, becoming unnaturally worried for my future after being with ladies around my age who think much differently than I. This is highly unlikely of me, typically I am fine alone, and had no intention of finding anyone during wartime. But, aloneness is in me and it always has been. So quickly, my thoughts have been changing. Now my heart and mind do not want to be alone anymore.

In words of my parents: you are growing up.

 _Mrs. Lillian Hamilton? It does have a nice ring to it, but could he be the one for me? I'm not climbing the social ladder like other women are to gain wealth, surely he knows this?_

 _My family is of wealth. I know for certain he isn't from what a group of older ladies at a table said as I joined them briefly while Alexander was talking to some of the men momentarily. He came from poverty._

 _But he doesn't need to be wealthy, or renowned. He is most certainly renowned though._

 _What if he is going to try and use me for my money? Marry me for wealth and not love?_

 _GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF LILLIAN!_

 _This is all new territory to me._

"I confess, I am not alright, sir," I answer him, looking straight ahead without a point of focus.

"I was about to say earlier, you are acting a bit different from what your parents have told me."

I turn and stare at him with a raised brow, "You do not know me, sir."

"I know, Miss Washington. In some cases someone else's words on a person have no comparison to what they actually are no matter how much intellect a person has on deciphering other, you are that case."

I blink in shock as I'm reminded of those same exact words that spilled from my lips when I spoke with Mr. Sackett the first time I met him. _Gosh, this man is getting under my skin! Not that his hand is on top of my hand already..._

"Was it something I have done?" He asks worriedly at my look of shock, drawing away his hand from mine but I grab it gently before he pulls it back completely.

"No, of course not! It's… a burden I suppose I have weighing in my mind. I have a lot of things on my mind, things beyond anyone can comprehend, maybe even myself."

"Not acceptable, let's go outside, for some fresh air, to speak. It always does me well to get fresh air. Having someone to talk to, however, is rare," he informs me, standing up, still holding my hand ever so firmly, and I let him lead me. I wasn't exactly given a choice.

He walks me around tables and chairs of people to get to the back door leading outside onto the patio where a handful of men are talking about the revolution.

Other than their loud voices and drunken laughter, crickets are chirping, fireflies all around, and stars are shining brightly on this hot summer night as we walk down a pathway to a white gazebo to get away from the men.

He didn't say anything, though, when we got there. He only has expectant eyes as he waits for me to speak.

"Well, now I suppose I pour out my heart to you," I mumble, basically summing up everything making him smirk in response.

"If that is what you wish to do, then I am all ears."

I shake my head, suddenly feeling nervous, "No, this has to be planned! That's what it is isn't it? Is this a set up?"

"I beg your pardon? A set up for what, Miss-?"

"It's a set up to make me look like a fool, which I probably am in your observant eyes. I'm no ordinary woman, you see. I am told—what you just said earlier that I am _impulsively outspoken_ , and that is what other women have come to know amongst other things."

"The other women, are they here tonight?" He asks slowly, leaning on the railing of the gazebo while looking directly at me.

"No, but only one, and it may be just her, my mistake. She taunts me for no apparent reason!"

"And what does this have to do with a plan for set up? You think me using you?"

"I-" I pause in speaking as I watch the look he gives m; a look of shock.

"No, of course not, I couldn't think of you that way when I just met you-"

"Are you sure?"

"This! Exactly these words being exchanged right now. This is a set-up for disaster, for me. She is trying to make me a fool of myself."

"My lady, please calm down. Would it help if I say that it isn't true? I am a part of no such scam, you have my honest word," he says standing up straight, holding a hand over his heart.

I nod my head, glancing behind me at the path leading back to the main house, "I'm sorry."

"Tis' alright, Miss Washington. What about this burden you have in your mind, my lady? I have a feeling it ties up with your current thoughts."

I laugh lightly, "It will sound so silly to you, and probably not appropriate depending on how you perceive my words."

His eyes harden at my words and solemn expression, and his throat tightens as if dry, "Try me. I have an oddly open mind."

 _That's great to hear_ , she thinks to herself. This revolution may yet be changing everyone's minds after all. For the better? I think so.

Sighing, as I keep my eyes and entire face down, looking over the railing at the rose bushes neatly arrayed around the gazebo, I finally say, "I cannot be myself, sir. That is what I'm learning now. I am to be a duplicate of every other lady. I got away with being myself just this past winter at my father's camp, such as speaking up more, but politely of course which is normal for me, but talking out loud my dealings with the sick for example needs to stop. It's worse now, I can't even be myself at home-"

Out of the corners of my eyes I saw him stiffen as I spoke. _Great, did I make him uncomfortable?_

"Similar things like this has happened in the past with other men. We'd talk, then I'd try to be myself around them but it'd scare them off so quickly—

"Miss Washington," he says gently, placing his hand over mine. It took me some moments to realize a couple tears had escaped my eyes.

"I'm sure you can still be yourself- which is what I prefer in a woman if I may say- without conforming to the traditional society of women too much."

"I tried, but my only success was with the Head of Intelligence and the courier of our spy ring. They need someone like me to even have the… guts to find intelligence. Enemy intelligence, something a lady is never heard speaking of."

"An average lady, maybe. But a great lady, yes, because that is what you are," he tells me softly, tilting his head as he looks as if he wants to say more, but instead he licks his dry lips and looks back at me with confident eyes.

"You will conquer, Miss Washington. If you ever feel need, you may be yourself around me whether that is in person or in writing. Though, I was wondering, if you would like to be yourself around me the rest of the night. I would lov—like to see _you_ as yourself."

I smile tenderly at his acceptance for me, but he doesn't even know the beginning of it, sadly.

"I wish I could, but not with the public eye around. It would cause rumor that isn't true. We just met, and to be immediately contented around you—" He takes my hand and places a kiss on my knuckle with a grin.

"I do not see any problem with being immediately content. It only means we are friends at first sight," he explains.

"I suppose," I say. "But do not think I am not myself entirely tonight. I am only containing. My politeness and sweetness is all me."

His nostrils inhale the hot night air as his smile grows, "Now that I knew, just like I knew I wouldn't be fooled this time."

"And I'm not being fooled either."

"Of course not. Now, we can't be fools to let this night end. Do you wish to go back inside and socialize-?" He holds up his arm, but slowly lets it fall as he watches me turn back to looking at the stars, and the fireflies trying to fly up to be with them.

"Actually I think I'd prefer out here… I'd do this with my father at dances when I was younger."

He takes a slight step towards me, close, but not brushing arms close, but just enough to let me know he is not in disagreement with this.

"I hear your father is quite the dancer at parties," he states with a tone wanting to hear more.

She goes into deep memory, a reminiscent smile on her rose colored lips, "He is wonderful at waltzes. He'll dance with every person in the room if he is able. Many think him crazy, but he is the life of anything he involves himself in, just like the war. He wants every American happy and free with liberty ringing in their wake every morning."

"That day will come. I am confident it will," He says in… amazement? Is he that in awe of my words?

"It will," I agree, turning to look at him, staring at me in wonder, making me blush… making me reach for my fan, but then I remember earlier, he wants me to be myself. But to take the attention off of me, I turn some questions towards him.

"What about your father? What is he like?"

"I had no father, my lady. My mother passed when I was twelve, therefore with no other caretaker I was raised at an orphanage."

I swallow, my heart pinging with hurt for asking him and feeling bad for him. I would have never thought this wonderful man had that much of a rough life.

"I'm sorry, sir-"

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he interrupts me, knowing beforehand I would say that… Anyone knows that. I know that feeling all too well.

"I lost my father; he was shot and killed when I was only a toddler. And I lost my mother at exactly the same age as you. She died of tuberculosis. The doctors at the time bloodlet' her too much," I tell him, lacing my tone with comfort that he isn't alone. Of course he is a grown man, he'll say he needs no comfort, but it is always needed and appreciated.

"I'm sorry you experienced that same pain," he now says, shaking his head. "I apologize for speaking so brashly as well. Thank you for understanding my old grief."

"You're welcome. And thank you," I say with my lips neutrally set in its normal rosebud shape.

"So this essay of yours from college… _A Blood Theory_ ," he changes the subject with a curious look crossing his features. "It was about your superb outlook on blood in the human system. Was your mother inspiration for you to study this in college?"

His accent made me smile, it was Scottish/English, but he has flair of French when speaking, when he said 'college' it had a strong French enunciation.

"Yes she was the inspiration for me to…" I trail off losing my voice. _Why is my voice breaking? It hardly ever breaks when I mention her anymore._

Reacting quickly, controlling my breathing, I continue but this time in remembrance, "She told me I could do anything I please. That I don't have to amount up to the world, but the world should amount up to me. Once you have your goals, values, and desired outcome in mind, nothing is insurmountable.

And before she passed, she always reminded me if something were to happen to her, work my way towards higher education. It was both my father and hers wish for me to do so. And George made sure I completed it. The frustration and anger from not being able to save my mother drove me to being… I'm sure you understand. Words fail me right now."

"Words never fail. You spoke volumes just now," he says softly. "And your essay did just that as it changed many minds in the medical field and college educates. It was given the honor to be translated to Latin, which is no small feat for a young woman like you."

I smile, wiping the tears from the bottom of my eyes, "Did you read my essay?"

He opens his jacket, reaches in with his left hand and pulls out a handkerchief for me to use making me laugh embarrassedly, but I accept it and blot away the rest of my tearstained cheeks.

"Yes of course I read it. I read everything that is written by mankind itself," he grins proudly as I giggle at his pride. He should be proud of that exceptional talent.

"I am much like you when it comes to reading then. But sadly, a pinch of books bore me…"

"A _pinch_?"

"Yes. That's a rather nice term to use instead of 'some.' Books are amazing, and it hurts for me to say as much as it is for you to hear I imagine, but that _pinch_ just bore me."

Staring at me like I grew a second head, his chest rumbles with laughter.

"I see this is what your father warned me about."

"He warned you?"

"That you are much like him in ways of speech and manner, particularly the peculiar phrases. Like 'many mickles make a muckle.' " He quotes my father making me laugh now.

"That phrase is the father of all his phrases I say. It's quite common in our household."

"I just don't understand why some books bore you. Every book is interesting in some way."

"Oh? How about _Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded?_ " I ask him and his eyes snap to mine.

"Please, that must be the only book I haven't read. It was criticized for its perceived licentiousness."

"But _every book is interesting in some way."_

"Miss Washington, are you mocking me?"

"Maybe. You should be careful then when you say you read every book in all of mankind. I haven't even got to the children's books yet," I jest making him nod his head and sigh.

"You got me, my lady. At least I learned this lesson from an exquisite woman and not a hard, challenging man. Have you read that book, if it could even be called that?"

"I tried, but it bored me… And disgusted me of course. The woman tried escaping and got scared of two cows she thought were bulls!"

He chuckles, "I am glad I never read it. And it is a good thing your intelligence came through to close the book."

"Indeed!" I laugh with him. "Conversation is amazing, isn't it? It flows unexpectedly but so smoothly, even if words are rough and jagged at times."

"Indeed…" I probably startled him at changing the subject that quick since he trailed off. But movement in the bushes makes me jump out of my own skin and thoughts, but it is only Alexander's hand holding a knife, and snipping off a dark rose from one of the nearest bushes on the other side of the railing.

I watch him step closer to me, and take my hand, "A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. That's why there are so few good conversations; due to scarcity, two intelligent talkers seldom meet. But we were fortunate enough to meet on this day in time, both intelligent, and we talked as if we have known each other for years. It is amazing, Miss Washington."

He then holds up a rose to me, and I take it slowly, caught in his sparkling eyes.

"It is no wonder they call you Jewel of Virginia," He continues. "Personally I'd like to call you Jewel of America, for you are well esteemed to be such a representation of the greatest land in the world."

I stare at him, letting out a light giggle as my breath quickened at his playful wink. It felt like it came out as a gasp.

"I am at your service at any time, my lady," the tall man bowed his head (reminding me of a certain Major now), as if I were royalty.

"I thank you, Lt. Hamilton. I am pleased to have you as a designated friend, now."

"I can assure you it is I who is pleasured the most," he said, emphasizing his last words. There was a devilish twinkle in his eye, one that caused me to make my stomach warm up.

"Miss Washington," Derik's voice breaks in the conversation, and both Alexander and I turn our heads to our family's servant and horseman. Alexander straightens his posture, not letting go of my hand, but his other arm folds behind his back gentlemanly. _Wait, where was it before? Was that the warmth I felt near my stomach? It was on my waist!?_

"Your mother only got worried where you were, fearing you left the party early. I'll inform her you're alright."

"Oh, thank you, Derik. We'll return back inside soon."

"Yes ma'am," Derik says, bowing his head, then retreating back towards the house.

I look at Alexander's face, his eyes fixated on me, glossed with avid seriousness in the moonlight, but like my father, it means he will want to further talk more privately later, not being outside under a gazebo on a summer night.

"Thank you," I say quietly, feeling the lightness of my voice float with the fireflies, but loud enough for him to hear.

He tilted his head and his eyes blinked, "For… what?"

"For what you just said, for being you, and for this," I hold the rose up to my nose and smell its distinct scent.

"Oh, you're welcome. My apologies, I'm not so used to being thanked, however I am in knowing that one doesn't have to thank a person for being themselves," he explains suddenly awkward, but with that same self-confidence in his tone. It isn't egocentric at all, it is an unpretentious self-confidence.

I nod my head but I take the turn to explain, "But people should take the time to do that, and I mean it when I say it and that isn't often. You're an honorable man and left an impact on my life already, considerably."

He shifted his feet, legs growing stiff from standing in the hot air, "You are right, we should take the time to tell that to people, because it warmed my heart so greatly I almost forgot we were standing outside," I giggled at this assertion. "I am delighted I have done so and have earned the chance of being in your divine presence."

"Your words are ever flattering, and poetic, Lt. Hamilton. You must speak to every woman as so."

He gave a dashing smirk, his merry blue eyes twinkling.

"Only the most beautiful ones, but you're the only one I came across in my life's journey thus far. And I've been far and wide."

"Sir, you'll make me blush something fierce," I answer, not expecting our conversation to continue this far. His attentions were more than I had anticipated.

"Ah, but you look very fetching when you blush."

I draw my hand back from his hand, to regain composure, as did he, "I hear you have been off running errands for my father," I say, trying to divert the strange yet smooth going conversation.

"Yes, well, such is the life of an aide-de-camp."

"War keeps you young men so busy, doesn't it?"

"Naturally, and seemingly young women like yourself. But if it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it."

I can only nod my head. _Damn he is good._

"Perhaps it is time. Will you allow me to escort you back inside?" He asks, as we already started walking and I couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Seeing as we are already walking, sure, Lieutenant. And you are my escort for the rest of the night," I say, and witnessing his reaction more when I call him by his title. Proudness in his eyes, but there is something lingering in them that looks uncertain.

"You do know, you may call me Alexander, Miss Washington. Titles such as those are not needed with me, at least when it is only you and I. Titles also make me feel older than I really am. I'd much prefer it if you called me by my Christian name," he admitted.

I see where this is going.

But… I do not think I mind.

"Very well, Alexander, and you may call me Lillian. Or Lilly, my parents call me the shorter name for a sweet endearment, and it's easier to roll off the tongue," I look up at him from under my eyelashes and see him gulp, with a new gleam in his eyes, a nervous sweat breaking out on his hands, and my heart melts.

Not only my mind he has a place in, but my heart as well.

 _Mother I think you've done it this time._

 **A/N: It's ALEXANDER HAMILTON! ( And sorry for all the Hamilton musical references… A lot of it bled in so well… ) He is sweeping Lillian off her feet before Ben ever could! (Don't worry Ben will get his moment with her soon). What a chapter! I apologize for the wait; I had some writer's block. This is a buffer between the first and second episode. I had to establish more major plot points for this story to continue as it should. How about Freddy? If some of you don't know, Freddy was introduced in Season 2 a part of Peggy Shippen's table at her ball playing cards with Peggy, 'Becky and Becky.' He is one of my favorite characters and was glad he was brought back in one of the last episodes of Season 3.**

 **The next chapter is going to lead up to Valley Forge… Not exactly there yet, still rewatching season 2 to come up with everything. But THANK YOU EVERYONE! Thank you for continuing to follow and favorite! I deeply appreciate it so much! And my reviewers make me smile every time I read. I smile for everything, and every time I have any thought of this story. It may be one of the best ones I've written. Thank you once more, I look forward to hearing what you think! :) Please stay tuned for more!**

 **Keep calm and don't get mad at Alexander Hamilton and Lillian *cough* flirting *cough*. I definitely didn't forget Benny-boy :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	21. Chapter 21: False Flag and Bethlehem

**Chapter 21: October 1777 Mount Vernon**

 _The thunder of horse hooves reverberating off the ground and men yelling is heard in a dense, foggy green forest. Canons firing from all directions, blue coats either fighting or retreating, and redcoats either firing or retreating._

 _Lillian sits on the ground out of breath, against a tree, hidden behind shrubbery._

 _"Lilly!" She hears Benjamin Tallmadge call her name sounding close, but he was nowhere in sight._

 _It drove her mad, looking around every bit she could trying to stay hidden from enemy fire, until she finally looked up. In the tree, there was Ben, sitting on a large branch looking down at her with a pistol in his hand, firing at the enemy from above._

 _"You need to go get intelligence!" He shouts down at her._

 _"What! Are you mad?!"_

 _"You can't stay put like this. You need to fight your way through, and get something! Anything!"_

 _"Look who is talking!" Lillian's eyes flare with anger. "You're sitting in a tree!"_

 _"I can't be caught, I'm the handler!"_

 _"So am I!"_

 _"Not the same. I'm an officer, you're but a girl. It's time you know your place," he finishes with venom in his tone as he killed a red coat near the tree._

 _…You're but a girl. It's time you know your place… You're but a girl. It's time you know your place…_

Lillian thrashes around in her sleep.

 _"So are you originally from New York?" She asked Freddy._

 _"Yes, it is where I am from, but with the summer-fall being 'ball season' I travel to meet my appointments wherever they live. Of course there are some 'dead years' where not many events happen, especially with the war going on, so I remain in New York most of the time then."_

 _"Which part of New York?"_

 _"The heart of the city itself," he answered. "Are you meaning to ask me something of greater importance?" He finally asked._

 _"I need your help in getting intelligence from the enemy. Your position in all these parts of society and people's lives is the perfect chance to gather this information to help end this war once and for all. I need you to be my inside source, Freddy. And I'm asking you as a friend," she said._

She shoots up awake, panting heavily, and clutching her covers with her fingers tightly, catching a chill from the brisk fall weather blowing in from her opened window. It's barely even dawn.

"My monthly nightmare, scary as ever," she mumbles, continuing to sit up in bed, staring at the yellow wall across from her, thinking of her new dream…

Well, nightmare.

Noticing that once a month since she came into the Washington family after her biological mother had passed, she experiences nightmares or 'terrors', which is quite uncommon, especially for women.

Her own diagnosis of getting nightmares, is due to sleeping position, diet, or her terrible past of losing her mother— running in to see her grey, skeleton of a mother and blood staining her white bed sheets to crimson red all over.

But… she is a nurse. The doctors, who consist of men, say the cause for nightmares is because of an incubus, a mystical creature that sits on a sleeper's chest during these episodes of terror.

Now, Lillian resolves that it is only from having a lot on her mind. The Benjamin nightmare was because of her social interactions with other people (women), and for thinking a woman has limits. _Untrue._

As for the Freddy nightmare, well perhaps this could be considered a regular dream; it only vivdly replayed him styling her hair for the summer ball. She worries about him ruining her name, reputation, and the spy ring.

 _"I got you honey!"_

No. He wouldn't do that. She knew he'd keep a promise. She trusted him that much.

She sighs as she moves to stand up from her bed, and begin her day of finally doing nothing but paint, and play her harp while she thinks about how much she has changed, and has grown to trust a few more people in her life.

Looking in the mirror, Lillian ties up the strings of one of her comfier corsets where the straps and the garment itself meet at the shoulder. Instantly, her smooth bust is pushed up as high as they go, the tops rounded and perky. Then, she takes her new lilac Georgian rococo robe a l'anglaise, and slips into it with some difficulty, so used to her old one which was stretched from being worn so many times. But after pricking it, and eventually staining it permanently, she ordered a new one to be made.

Once the dress is on, it covers her bust appropriately so only a smidge is showing to present her with perfect femininity.

After brushing her hair, however, as she looks deeper into her own eyes in the reflection of the thin glass mirror, she watches her sister Patsy laugh from behind her, braiding her hair just as all sisters do, and tease each other.

Lillian then cringes as the thought of her real mother came to mind, actually remembering her mother's fingers comb through her hair, humming a song to get her happy for the day ahead. Just because her father was gone didn't mean life should cease, or shouldn't be happy.

Then anxiety sets in when she hears a yell outside. She sprints to her window, pulls back the curtain and looks out only to see some of the slave men laughing loudly. False alarm.

Shutting her window, she tells herself no one is ill, no one is hurt, and no one has written her… yet.

The mail arrives mid-day, and she thinks anxiously on reporting something useful this time around because it's been a while, a year to be exact since she last told her father something.

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

"Look who has a love letter…" Martha sings with a pleased grin handing a letter to me sitting across from her in the parlor, both of us sipping tea.

"From who? No one loves me," I say moving the teacup to my left hand as lazily as I take the letter from her, until my eyes read the front address on who sent it. Then I treat it as if it is a prized art piece.

"Lilly!"

"What?"

"There are people who love you!"

I roll my eyes, "Yes I know you and father do, and both of my grandmothers… "

"You take everything so literal," Martha rolls her own eyes at me.

"Freddy came through for me! Do you know what this means!" I exclaim happily.

She shakes her head, "No I don't because you haven't told me what it is yet. See, I can sound like you too. Now you know how it feels to be on the receiving end of you."

"If only we all talked so honestly," grumbling, I get up to walk towards the kitchen and tear open the letter to see a piece of writing paper covered with hair…

"What is this…" I look at the extensions and hair clippings covering the whole front, but the back is bare. "He sent me samples of hair extension colors.."

 _Wait. The art of concealment.._

My eyes rake across the paper looking for any sign, and when I don't find any I take a letter opener, and slide the blade between the lightly glued hairs and paper to peel them off carefully. After peeling off one, there is evidence of a written letter.

 _Freddy you genius!_

Laughing, I peel off the rest of the hair extensions, and the dried paste until the paper is for the most part bare, and it reads: _Lillian:_ _Hessian attack on Fort Mercer, New Jersey, just south of Philadelphia, is planned to happen soon. Couldn't pry out anything else. I hope you receive this in time._

 _Best wishes,_

 _Freddy ~_

After reading, I rush to my father's study, go to his drawers and take out a box. I fold the letter, and slip it into one of my special daggers , and I close the hilt before placing it into said box, locking it inside.

"Maria!" I call for her loudly, knowing she'll hear me somewhere in this house. "Find Derik when you can, and tell him I have an errand for him to make."

"Yes ma'am!" Her reply echoes from the parlor where my mother is.

* * *

"Seems our Culper Ring is alive and well," George Washington smiles, reading the new intelligence from Agent Culper, given to him by Benjamin Tallmadge who stands directly across from him with arms at his side, eyeing him questionably, trying to interrupt, but can't muster up the courage to.

Not only Washington has received intelligence from Abe, but Abigail (Anna's old house servant) and Lillian as well! The pride swelling in his chest of all their accomplished work so far has him in one of the most joyous moods he's been in since they crossed the Delaware, and mocked a fake rebel camp to lure in the British.

But even though both women's findings are excellent, Abigail's is even more important to pay close attention to because it is a simple shred of paper which reads: _General Lee a traitor._

And it is this shred of paper his eyes linger on now, with distress and suspicion.

"Two frigates, the 32-gun Alarm and 28-gun Sybil moored at Peck's Slip along with the 18-gun sloop Tobago. The whole of the king's troops including outposts does not exceed 3,500 men."

Washington continues, moving ships on the drawing board and maps back and forth, looking up at Ben in astonishment, "Are these numbers precise?"

Ben meets his Commander's gaze, face staid like his tone, "Approximate. He had to transcribe from memory after losing the egg. Mr. Sackett is working on better means of encryption."

"The egg?"

"It's detailed in the report, sir."  
"It's wonderfully detailed," Washington beams in compliment. "Please tell Mr. Culper I eagerly await his next report. And impress upon him that time is of the essence."  
"Yes, sir. And what of the other intelligence?" Ben waves a hand over the shred of paper, to catch his Commander's attention once more, which is back to looking down at Abe's report and maps.

"Lilly's Hessian report has been taken under consideration by Lt. Hamilton. A far inferior force of Colonial defenders will be taking care of them in Jersey, I'm sure. As for that," he gestured back to the shred of paper before going back to Abe's report, "it's unclear, inconclusive. Eight ships anchored in the lower North River…"

"I beg your pardon, sir," Ben moves closer to the General in attempts to explain better, politely interrupting him talking to himself, "but this is clear as day. ' _General Lee a traitor,'_ And this comes direct from enemy headquarters, from the house of their head of intelligence."

Washington looks up, straightening his posture from leaning over the table, "No, it comes from a source I have not heard of before today. The message is four words in length, lacks context, is unverified, and so cannot be trusted."  
"Sir, the source is the former housemaid of our signal agent in Setauket," Ben adds for clarity.  
Washington blinks before responding once more, this time in finality, making Ben's pride shatter, replaced with frustration, "The spirits of the men are lifted after our victory at Saratoga. Now is not the time to disparage a fellow general."

"Of course. Yes sir."

* * *

"Oh, calm down," Mr. Sackett shuts and opens his eyes in exasperation at the young man punching the side of a wagon, making whatever there was inside of it crashing and falling out.  
"Bite that. You get angry," Caleb sits close to the ground near his boiling pot; hat tilted blocking the early morning sun.  
"I lost my entire patrol to Robert Rogers," Ben marches closer to the two men, hissing every word and hands waving in all directions. "My men were butchered in that ambush. Do you know who we were on our way to rendezvous with? _Charles Lee._ We should have seen it earlier, yeah? Washington should see it now."

Ben clutches the hilt of his sword with a tight fist, pointing at the house the Commander is in, "The truth is staring him straight in the face and he refuses to even look. Every hour that Lee remains within our camp, the more his poison infects this army."  
"Our dear general may be overly stubborn, numbingly obsessive, and downright bullheaded at times, but he is not, in this case at least, wrong. Empirically, that is," Sackett defends the head man of them all, and then proceeds to drink his cup of coffee now sour.  
"I can assure you, Abigail's intelligence is not wrong," Ben exclaims, with want to prove his point further.  
"No, but she is an unverified asset. Ergo, it falls to us to verify her," Sackett says while dumping the already poor tasting coffee onto the ground, then dropping his cup to gesture the two men to follow him, "Gentlemen."

"What about Lillian's intelligence, yeah? Her own father believes that at least?" Caleb asks Ben, who is following behind him, since Caleb is anxious to find out where the old man Sackett is leading them to.

"Of course, believing anything she tells him isn't a problem, but hers was more detailed then Abigail's to say the least. Lillian made a connection with someone from New York," Ben says quietly as they walk so that both men could hear.

"About time," Sackett huffs. "I would have never thought of a hairdresser though. I have to give her credit for that."  
Caleb barks out laughter, "A credit for the glossy _Princess_."

Ben's lips quirk up into a small smirk at his friend's words, "She wrote you, Mr. Sackett?"

"No," Caleb answers, looking behind him at Ben as he walks ahead. "The Derik boy gave me her intelligence in the form of weaponry exchanging, and told me she made a friend in Virginia who lives in New York that travels to many enemy locations for events... to style their frilly locks."

"I guess so, generals need to look their best," Ben shrugs, shaking his head at the woman putting her trust into this man. "And the upper class women for those events."

"Not just generals, but civilians as well," Sackett winks back at him as he leads them to an old wooden barn. "You get what I'm silently conveying."

"Sure. Extracting information from civilians is just as good as higher regarded people."

Caleb opens the barn door, creaking in doing so, and he sucks in a breath of wonder at the dark room with tools, weapons, and gadgets littered on the tables and ground, "Sweet Jesus. What the hell is this place?"

Paradise found, Caleb jogs over to the first table and picks up a large gun and feigns pulling the trigger while aiming up at the sky, grinning like a little boy finding treasure.

"We don't have a name for it yet as Congress is suspicious of allocating monies to Secret Services.  
And ever since you told me about 355, I have been working on securing a new protocol for communications," Sackett explains to Ben, who finally notices Caleb touching everything.

"Sorry, who is 355?" Ben shakes his head at Sackett's new terms.  
"Abigail, our lady in Philadelphia. She requires instruction on how to operate properly. Her messages lack context. Worse still, we don't know when they will arrive and there's no way for us to message her until now," Sackett looks at Caleb who is holding up a hatchet. "That's enough."  
"Right. Sorry," Caleb smirks, dropping it back where it was and going off to look around some more.

"Now, there's a hidden compartment insi-What in the name of God is this?" Sackett then looks at the carpenter, who is also in the barn carving a small wooden ship.

"Her son is supposed to have carved it. Her son is nine years old and he is not Michelangelo! Start again," Sackett tells the man who nods his head and gets right to it.  
"And how long will this take?" Ben asks.

"Oh, not long. Larsen here used to carve figureheads in the Norwegian navy," Sackett answers, earning a smile from the man.  
"I mean to get this to Philadelphia," Ben sighs. "It still has to go by way of Setauket first."  
"Patience, Major. Rome was not built in a day," Sackett waves his hand in gesture for the young man to calm down.  
"No, but it was sacked in one. I need to verify for Washington that Lee is a traitor now, not a month from now," Ben speaks until Sackett glances behind him catching Caleb lifting a black cover off of a large barrel.  
"Don't touch that! It's very expensive. It's for special operations only."  
"Yeah?" Caleb probes.

"Yes."  
"I'm very special."  
"You're _useful_. Learn the difference." Sackett retorts. "It's the reason you're here."  
"Ah, right," Caleb nods his head, smiling as sweet as sarcasm can be. "This is about that secret mission you keep jabbering on about, isn't it?"

"Oh, your head may be empty, but hers is not," Sackett leads Caleb over to a bust of a woman, sculpted of white wax. "Now, there's a message concealed within the waxwork. Here, practice drill. Take it."

Caleb looks at the dinky drill Sackett gives him until taking it from the man's hand, knowing it's useless to say no.  
"Practice drilling without damaging the bust until you can retrieve it in under two minutes," Sackett orders him.  
"Is this an order?" Caleb grins goofily, taking his use of the word _bust_ the wrong way.

Not catching his meaning, Sackett puts his hands on his hips, instead saying "It's a challenge."  
"Mr. Sackett," Ben calls for the man.  
"Hmm?"

"What-What does this do?" Ben touches the interesting writing contraption.

"Oh, it's Thomas Jefferson's newest toy. It allows him to write two letters at the same time and to keep a double of his correspondence. The polygraph duplicator is what he calls it."  
Liking the sound of that, Ben asks further, "Now, could it—Could it duplicate something that's already been written? Such as a personal signature?"

Sackett's eyes widen, and asks in a low hush, "You wish to forge a letter?"

"No, to set a trap," Ben answers.  
"This is not a trap. This is a contraption."  
"No, but you see, sir, with the right signature, it's anyone we say it is," Ben continues to explain, feeling the wheels turning in his head, ignoring Sackett shaking his head in disagreement which is nothing new. "As far as Lee knows, it's someone he can trust. It's a friend."

* * *

"How bad is it?" General Benedict Arnold hisses on his cot, hair in disarray, and teeth clenched looking at his wound.

"Well, the ball is out," the doctor tells him with a relieved sigh. "But while I was digging for it, I found splinters where the bone should be. You wait any longer; your blood could be poisoned."  
"Wait any longer for what?" Arnold asks, breathing heavily.

"Amputation."  
Grabbing the doctor by the shirt collar, Arnold drags him down to his level with rage, "Take my leg and I take yours."

Shoving him away he mutters, "Miss Washington would have never said those words to me."

"You should count yourself lucky, Mr. Thatcher," Washington walks in, standing in front of the tent flap with hands behind his back, tricorn atop his evenly plaited hair, and cloak blowing behind him from the draft wind.

"The first time General Arnold was wounded, he kept a sword and two loaded pistols beside the bed."

"Well, apparently I've been tempered," Arnold lowers his voice, looking at his Commander with respect.

"I should hope not, for our enemy's sake," Washington's mouth curls up into the slightest of smiles.  
"I come with news from Congress. You're to be appointed to major general, a distinction as well deserved as it is long overdue."

"Why is it they only ever promote me when I'm wounded?" The wounded man asks defeated.

"Well, they realize they could lose you. It makes them come to their senses."  
"That's precisely why I feared it might never happen," Arnold grins with pride soon after. "I'd like to see St. Clair's face when he learns that I outrank him once again and rightly so."

"Doctor, will you excuse us?" Washington asks, soon watching the man leave to look at his fellow officer with a displeased face as one would give to their child who pushed another child into the water and laugh at them. This comparison because George has watched his stepson Jacky one too many times push Lillian into the Potomac River, and Jacky would be scolded until he became a better young man to not just treat a woman as so, but anyone.

"The promotion is in title only. You remain subordinate to those promoted in February," Washington says after dragging a chair over to the General's bedside.  
"You mean to tell me that the man who defeated Burgoyne is outranked by the men who retreated from him?" Arnold snaps aloud, silencing Washington. "Stephen, St. Clair, Mifflin, Lincoln I've won more battles than all of them put together. Title only. What about pay? They are four years delinquent in reimbursing my expenses."

"The Congress is without surplus. We must all continue to make sacrifices," Washington advices in all astuteness.  
"Sacrifice?" Arnold spits, feeling the pain course his whole body from his wounded leg. "What do you know of sacrifice? Remember, George, my wife did not come from means. All she left to me were three sons to care for, three mouths to feed, three men to raise strong. I would rather die before I see shame brought on them as my father did me. Something you would understand if you had any sons of your own.."

Instantly, Arnold's face crumples regretting those words.

George glowers down at the man, mouth set in a tight frown. He knew his words were never meant to slip, he was saying them out of pain and stress, but to let them slip so easily. This gives him cause to set this officer, one of his generals, straight for outright slighting his name, unintentionally.

"Do not assume what I do or do not understand, Benedict Arnold. I have a daughter I'm raising strong, in a country soon to be inhabited by _strong men_ as you if it isn't already, and my stepson, gracing me with grandchildren while he endures the hardships of battle with me."

"I apologize, sir," the man looks down. "How is she if you don't mind me asking?"  
"Answer my question first, who are you fighting now?" George narrows his eyes inquisitively.

"I'm fighting for what I deserve. And I will need your support," Arnold pleads kindly enough; this certain plead reminding Washington of Lt. Colonel Hamilton wanting his military glory on the field. A strong desire for men nowadays to achieve the highest title they aspire with heads full of fantasies dying like martyrs, and preserving their legacy with inheritance for their descendants.

Times are hard for many, especially now, yes. But there are much different paths to achieve success other than military glory.  
"Yes, and it has always been there. And it will always be," Washington nods his head, promisingly, but his eyes say the complete opposite, varnished with apprehension.

"And my daughter is doing well, thank you for asking."

* * *

~ **Lillian's POV**

Four days later, I found myself in the city of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, a Moravian settlement known for the new Headquarters of the Hospital Department. It is where wounded soldiers are sent to be treated more effectively, but the mortality rate increased rapidly. Many have been succumbing to disease and neglect said by my father, in his letter asking for me to come here to volunteer work, and help Marquis de Lafayette recuperate from his wounds, because he is needed by my father as quick as possible.

Since August, my father had been retreating from his defeat in New York; he'd crossed over the Hudson into New Jersey. From Newark to Trenton he had been harassed by Cornwallis, leaving behind many of the sick and wounded; a hospital was set up in Hackensack and then moved to Morristown almost immediately. While originally welcomed there by the community as a means to protect them from the British, an outbreak of smallpox, spread by the sick soldiers at the hospital there, caused the deaths of many men, women, and children of the general population. One might see how that would make the community a little testy and uneasy.

 _I should be there… I should be everywhere at once…_

"Where is everyone, sir? The other doctors and nurses?" I ask Dr. William Shippen.

"Many have grown sick from the patients spreading their illness, and there weren't many to begin with, only I and John Warren, a surgeon," the man in his early forties answers, one of the key figures in the establishment of University of Pennsylvania where I went and graduated from.

I glance to my right as we walk down the center street of the town, where many soldiers are lying off to the sides due to overcrowd inside, blending in with the pasty, brick buildings because of their ghostly skin color, and the railings because that is how thin their limbs are. I want to walk up to each of them, and help them in any way I can… But many are standing, trying to fight off their weaknesses, others are lying down, sleeping midday, and others are sending me either lustful looks or staggered looks of not seeing a woman in so long.

"What have you done so far, sir?" I ask, holding my cloak closer to me catching a chill from the late autumn breeze.

"All I could do, obviously!" He snaps. Now I'm getting a bad feel for this man and isn't the idol I thought I could look up to in this healing profession. "May I ask what you, a young lady is doing here? Did your father send you here to spy on this death pit?"

My eyes widen, and nostrils flare, "Yes and no, sir. There is no reason for this to be a death pit as you so call it! I went to the college you helped established and studied under your teachings, graduating with a bachelors. I have yet to receive any word from higher-ups on help needed at this location!"

"Are you a doctor?" He asks, curiosity piqued, and pretending he is just now coming to know of me.

"No I am a nurse."

"You can't do much."

I bite my lower lip, "But I can do what I may, and we'll have more doctors come in at once."

He laughs mirthlessly, "There is no _we_. Have whatever hope you want. I'll take you to who you want to see, Benjamin Rush."

"No. He will come to me when he is available. For now I am here to see a wounded soldier by the name of Marquis de Lafayette, by orders of my father," I respond back, our eyes maintaining contact until he is the first who looks away.

"The wounded Frenchmen? Very well, not someone I'd see you with."

I swallow bile at his implication and the look he sends me, not as immodest as the sick soldiers in the street getting fresh air, but close enough to be called it.

Derik walks close behind me, and his younger brother, James, as we walk through this horrible, sickly town.

"He is a family friend, sir. My business is my own, now," I tell him with narrowed eyes as we come to a building with guards who look healthy enough to function and stand. "I shall see you soon."

The man huffed as he walked away in the afternoon sun, leaving me, Derik and James, alone.

Upon entering the building one of the guards, a young man with ebony plaited hair and dark green eyes stops me.

"My lady, it is not a sight for you to witness," he warns.

"I'm Miss Lillian Washington. I am a nurse, here to see Marquis de Lafayette, help him recuperate from his wounds so he can meet with my father and return to his place on the field," I say.

He nods slowly, "Very well. I'll take you to his room. And also know Dr. Shippen never visits the sick, dresses wounds, or comforts soldiers. Do not be hurt if some are insulting you. Bethlehem is its own world of neglect."

I blink away tears as the guard leads us inside, which is full of wounded soldiers from the front door, to back, not even noticing the staircase which leads up to private rooms filled with many more.

 _Awfully wounded soldiers… Physical, mental, and emotional wounds. Their spirits are low._

Some soldiers silenced at my entrance, to which I looked each of them in the eyes with hope and care, and they bowed their heads, whilst the others merely glanced and continued talking loudly, or complaining. Down the way there were some… brothel women gathered in the back of the building, but a couple of them were actually dressing wounds.

A surprise for men and my own eyes to see, as I wasn't expecting to see any woman here, maybe one or two wives, but nothing like this.

The guard led us up the staircase to the second floor, a hallway with five doors on each side.

"He is in the second to last room on the right side," the young guardsmen leads us to the doorway, which is wide open and hushed talk is heard in the French language.

" _Je lis, j'étudie, j'examine , je l'écoute , et hors de tout cela, j'essaie de former et de l'idée dans laquelle je mets autant de bon sens que je peux ,"_ **(« I read, I study, I look , I listen , and out of all this , I try to form and idea in which I put as much sense as I can,)** a pale faced, white wigged Frenchmen says to the man asleep on the cot nearby. The talking man is lying on his cot covered with a blanket, with his head propped up on two pillows, and his right leg is propped up on a tall stack of pillows.

Immediately upon entering, however, his eyes snapped into our direction, alert, looking at the guardsmen with attention.

"Monsieur, you have an expected visitor," the guard announces my presence, gesturing to me, and the Frenchmen's eyes land on me, smiling very effectively showing his small teeth. Well, he must be Marquis de Lafayette. My father is close friends with him, but not once have I or my mother ever met him.

" _Pas un autre putain, déjà_ ," Lafayette says with an exhale of breath. **("Not another whore, already.")**  
" _Allez-vous , je suis marié_." **(Go away I am married.)**

My face may be heated, but I defend my honor with a clear voice, " _Je ne suis pas prostituée , monsieur. Je suis Lillian Washington, envoyé ici par mon père George Washington_. " « **I am no whore, sir. I am Lillian Washington, sent here by my father George Washington. »**

He laughs, waving me off, "Madame, I was jesting. You look nothing like one of them!"

I smirk slightly, enjoying hearing his pure French accent, "Well, thank you sir."

The guard looked to Lafayette for confirmation to leave, visibly unsure of what we just spoke in the foreign language.

"Go, it is well," Lafayette simply waves his hand and the guard leaves them in the room. "So, I am sure you heard of my wounds, _petite beauté ?_ (little beauty), » he kindly says, pointing down to his elevated leg while removing the blanket.

"Yes. And I can imagine it to be painful, but with the right therapy I can have you walking by the end of the month. If that is well with you?"

"Indeed."

"Wonderful. And Derik and James will help you to stand or carry if needed—"

"No, no," he laughs lightly, holding up one of his hands. "No man needs to carry me."

I smile to myself, thinking this may not be harder than I thought. The French are stubborn, but they are determined people to get any job done.

* * *

"Washington is a weak and feckless leader blinded by his own arrogance," Benjamin prompts himself to think further thoughts of his Commanding General that he never thinks as he sits down in the same barn they were shown to by Mr. Sackett, who stands beside him shaking his head.  
"Heh, it's too strong."  
Tapping his quill on the table, Ben ponders aloud once more, "Well, what about cold and indecisive?"

"Indecisive, yes," Sackett agrees with, making Ben nod and finally dip his quill into his inkwell to begin writing, but Sackett had more to say… as always causing the major to barely stifle a sigh. "But cold is a bit too personal a modifier for Horatio Gates to use."  
Ben breathes out a sniff of laughter, smirking, "What, you think I'm making this too personal?"

"Me? Heavens, no!" Sackett laughs, gesturing for the young man to continue while the words are still floating in the front of his mind. "I think you're violating the law, committing _treason_ in a very considered and rational manner, as far as I'm concerned, but what I am curious to know is are you doing this to prove yourself right or Washington wrong?"

"I'm doing this to protect him, to expose his enemies," Ben answers with good heart. "They're the ones committing treason. I am simply gathering the proof. Now where is that letter from Gates?"

"You're forging it right now."  
"No, not this one, the one to Congress - with his signature on it. Where he proclaims his victory at Saratoga."

As Sackett sifts through the papers, hatless Caleb walks in on the scene from the back of the barn with a smug face.  
"Drill and extract, two minutes," he announces. "Huh? Now I haven't gotten head like that since before the war, boys!"

Sackett stares down at the paper in front of him, trying his hardest to hide his unfocussed grin as Ben merely sighs, shaking his head plainly used to such audacious innuendoes his friend comes up with.  
"Here it is," Caleb places the extracted item from the carved bust onto the table in front of Sackett just as Ben approaches him.  
"Good. Now you can help me," Ben holds up his forged letter to Caleb.  
"What are we doing?" Caleb looks on with interest.

"Laying a trap for Charles Lee."  
"Right."  
Ben walks over to the polygraph duplicator and sets both pages down underneath each wooden quill equipped with the mechanism, minus the feathers. "See, in this letter I pose as General Gates and I call for Washington to be replaced. I'll intercept the reply from Lee and I'll take it straight to the commander. It will be evidence he can't ignore."  
"That is genius, Tall boy, but how you gonna get that to Lee's tent?" Caleb poses a good question as Sackett looks back and forth between the papers he is reading and the two discussing men.

"It'll circulate through another general's mail. I've got that handled. What I need you for is tomorrow to help snatch the reply."  
"Tomorrow?" Sackett looks up. "No. Not good. I need Mr. Brewster to set out tonight on his mission.  
He's to collect intelligence from my London contact."  
"I am?" Caleb smirks sarcastically as the same time Ben asks.

"You have contacts in London?"

Sackett sets his hands on his hips, looking directly at Ben, "Don't make too much of it. It's just parliamentary gossip. But every little morsel is crucial."  
"I ain't going to London, all right?" Caleb refuses.

"No, you're going to New Jersey to the home of a Tory Loyalist by the name of…" unfolding a piece of paper from his pocket, forgetting the name, "Dr. Charles Hallum, Hackensack Township," Sackett tells the plucky, bearded whaler.

"Now, the intelligence is hidden inside a bust of King George. You're to extract it without its new owner knowing it was ever there."  
Caleb holds up both his hands, as if claiming innocence with his not so innocent grin, "These hands are the silkiest in the colonies, my friend."

Sackett looks at the man's hands fearfully, "If the messages inside the waxwork are discovered, my London contact is _dead_."

Ben straightens, looking over one of his silver epaulette shoulders at the older man as Caleb loses his grin.  
Caleb promises, with challenging eyes, "It'll be like I was never there."

As ironic as the words turned out to be, as Benjamin listened to his friend's pledge to get the bust safely, he never thought he'd take those seven words to heart the next night, where he would confront Washington with the forged letter.

* * *

"Washington will not go. He must be pushed," Benjamin reads the letter with a broken red wax seal aloud for his Commander to listen intently. "If the Congress will not rid us of this demigod, I pray a higher power will intervene."

"I have heard enough," Washington interrupts Ben, staring into blank space in deep thought.  
Ben swallows, accepting he got his message across even if it wasn't the whole letter spoken, "Well, I wanted you to see General Lee's nature with your own eyes. That part about a higher power sounds like he's calling for your death."

"It is damning."  
"I agree. And I think more than sufficient to relieve Lee of his command."  
"I wasn't referring to the general," Washington utters under his breath, looking off to the side, making Ben wait in even more anticipation for the man to explain further.  
"How did you obtain this?"

It felt as if the very breath was sucked out of him, in fact the higher power may have punched him right in the gut and yelled 'you didn't think this one through Benny-boy!'

Masking a lying face to one of surprise at his question, he couldn't help but stutter a response feeling guilty, "I-I forged a letter from Gates to prompt his response."  
"So his reply was coerced," Washington nods his head, narrowing his eyes even more so they look like they are squinting. "You entrapped him through falsehood and created two documents which if discovered may shame this army."  
"No, no, sir," Ben shakes his head negatively. "The letter I wrote as Gates contained a request to be burned upon reading. Lee's letter contains the same request. This evidence is for your eyes only. I wanted you to witness his treachery firsthand in ink."

"So that I may do what, precisely?" Washington speaks with his usual breathy tone, enough to make any conversation he has with a man or woman seem close and personal, and important. "So that I may do what?"

"This man has been working to undermine you for-"

"Since the day I was appointed," Washington sighs in his honest admission, staring down his Head of Intelligence as if _'why are you ensuing that I am blind to everything that goes on far beneath my nose.'  
_ "And Gates and Conway and others. Would you have me court-martial them? Hang them? Stone them to death?"

"Sir, I-"

"What would you have me do?"

"I would have you defend yourself!" Ben snaps back at his Commander with the same amount of intensity, which was a brave thing to do… and rash.  
"I am not in danger," Washington goes on to explaining in attempts to find peace in this discussion. "America and her future depend on this army. If we fight ourselves, we will appear to be divided and disorganized."  
Ben stares at him like he is crazy, now, "We are divided, sir. We are greatly divided!"  
"And the French cannot know it!" Washington yells at the young man, who steps back, blinking in shock at the patience no longer there in this moment.

Lowering his tone just a tad, the Commander and Chief looks his Major in the eye, standing a foot and a half or so below his tall height, "For the head of intelligence, you have so little understanding of what is truly at stake."  
"The French?" Ben asks bewildered that the French are becoming more engrossed in their war. He was not told this. Then, maybe if he didn't give up his seat for Arnold at the dinner, there would have been some discussion.

"Only France has the arms and munitions and ships needed to defeat Howe's army and liberate our cities," Washington says while thinking back on his _aide-de-camp_ discussing this with him. "Without France, we have no chance to succeed. Versailles is watching, waiting to see if we are a worthy ally.  
Exposing treachery in our highest ranks proves that we are not."  
"Sir, I-I was only trying to protect you," Ben's voice lowers to a whisper, his honesty in every word.

"It is better to offer no excuse than a bad one."  
"Forgive me, sir. I did not know," Ben swallows thickly.  
Washington merely looks past his apologies, "And it is not my task to teach you better sense. I'm not your father and you are not my son."

 _That was all. That was it._ Ben took his cue to leave, bowing his head in shame and walking out of his Commander's office with regret and dishonor.

 _By morning, it'll be like I was never there,_ Ben trudges outside, back to his tent for the night, barely escaping hearing range of Washington slamming his fist on his table in frustration.

Or so he thinks it'll be that way.

 **A/N: Sorry Caleb, but the London contact is already dead… *cough* SPOILER ALERT *cough*.**

 **Any whom, I'm sorry for the delay, I got busy and had no time to finish typing. This chapter may not be longer like the other ones, but its still long… haha *sigh* I have no life but thinking of this fanfic. So Lillian is helping Marquis de Lafayette recuperate from his injuries, Benedict Arnold asked about her wellbeing, her father is getting mood swings of late from being over-stressed, Ben is starting to be more focused than ever in his revenge seeking, and Caleb is good old Caleb. Poor Ben, being told he isn't Washington's son. Can't wait to see him ask for that blessing one day in time. Better stuff will happen soon, stuff like fighting, more spying, fights, and a kiss for Lillian perhaps.. Stay tuned for more! Thank you all for continuing to read, following, favoriting, and reviewing!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	22. Chapter 22: Men of Blood pt1

**Chapter 22: ~ Morristown, New Jersey- November 10, 1777 ~**

Washington stands up abruptly at the sound of the door knocking and a guard walking in, without anything folded, or sealed in his hands. Normally everyone walks in with a letter or more for him, but he is caught off guard at the sound of familiar, light, feminine voices in the foyer, making his face light up from its frowning sulk.

"Sir, your wife and daughter have just arrived and are being escorted in presently."

"Thank you-" He barely lets escape out his mouth as he rushes out into the hallway, paperwork and the role of Commander forgotten for just a brief moment, to see his smiling wife and daughter relieved to see him all in one piece once more.

"Martha!" He draws his wife in close and kisses her lips chastely before pulling his daughter into his chest, and kissing her forehead, "And my little Lilly. I have never been more contented to see you both."

"Will you be saying this every time we come, now, George?" Martha's bright blue eyes sparkle up at her husband and her dark hair glistens from the window light in its tight, high-up do.

"Can a man not be happy to see his family once more?" He laughs momentarily, having caught the eyes of his daughter who looks at him worriedly. Not commenting on it, he turns back to his wife, whose face is also full of worry.

"George, you wrote us with more urgency this time. We weren't due to be here until either the end of November or first week of December depending on your camp replacement. Did something happen, or do you know something that will affect us?" Martha asks.

"No nothing happened… to me personally. And it won't affect us-"

"It's the rumors about you, isn't it?" Lillian finds her voice to ask. "They are insulting your honor and comparing you to dark, horrid… things… That's enough to drive any sane man insane."

"Who told you this, my dear?" George looks down at his daughter with a sudden interest.

"B—Major Benjamin Tallmadge. He keeps me updated—which is what I asked him to do! He is who I report to!" She responds looking down to her feet at her father's heated gaze. "I must know for my safety in getting information, and I worry about my father. You and I can't write all the time! I hear that you are well through him."

"You are… communicating with a man I have not approved you to communicate with in writing? A considered _superior_ _boss_ or not," He asks her disappointedly.

"He is my boss, and he wrote me—he said you gave him permission to thank me for—"

"I gave _him_ permission, _temporarily_. Only for that one letter, I never expected you to respond especially without my consent and you two continue in exchanging letters. But I can see he didn't get that through his skull, much like any of my words have been."

"George," Martha's mouth parts surprised at her husband's rare negative talking of someone.

"Father, where is this coming from?" Lillian asks solemnly. "This is so unlike you."

The front door opens and shuts once more, with soldiers moving in and out the house, and the servants are carrying in his family's luggage.

"We'll speak in private. And Lillian, this is so unlike you," George says, offering his wife his arm and walking towards the back of the house to the staircase, leaving Lillian alone to her thoughts, racing all around her mind as she merely stands still as if slapped in the face for something she had no idea was wrong.

But she had some questions for her father. And the main one was about a certain young man who began writing her since the ball. _Did Alexander Hamilton get her father's permission?_

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

So my father later on told me, and my mother, that his Head of Intelligence (Benjamin) confronted him many times of late about the never-ending insults aimed at His Excellency, but in October, he said that Ben had gone through the trouble of forging a letter to reveal Charles Lee's disloyalty to my father and the army.

 _Oh Ben… So brave to take on my father like that. Even I would never dream to do that. I know that because I tried once before, but I was a child then and it was for a far smaller thing… And I am his daughter._

And as any man would, he said no more on the subject, and didn't go into much detail. Inconspicuously in the presence of my mother, he basically flat out told me to stay clear of Benjamin, and don't speak to him if I can help it—until he is further assessed on his place and devotion in this army, ' _not like you have to anyway. I can be your communicator to him,'_ is what my father said.

And my rebuke that Alexander Hamilton has been writing me, he said he has given him 'approval to write me but not so frequently.'

Now, since I do not want to be cooped up in the house on my first day here already, and there's negative energy inside with the hot smell of dinner already being prepared, I decide to go visit General Benedict Arnold in his tent to check up on his injured leg.

But that ends up being more negative energy.

* * *

"He told you that?" I ask with a slight laughter escaping my lips, thinking of the poor doctor that has been looking after him.

General Benedict Arnold just lies on his cot helplessly, and making every effort to move in some way, the poor man always getting injured in the leg… same leg! It is a nightmare for anyone to lose their leg or even be put at risk to. Poor Marquis de Lafayette, who also shared the same fate as Arnold, but the marquis luckily, and thankfully, was up on his legs in no time once more, and stationed back on the field to lead his battalion.

"Do you think my leg needs to be amputated, my lady? Please say no," he begs with large blue eyes, and dark bed hair still disheveled no matter how many times he ran his hand through it.

I eye his leg brace, and set my white gloved hand on his knee, "No it does not have to be amputated, General. It'll just take time, which I know is not what you want to hear. I wouldn't either. But to return back to your former strength, which won't be hard at all since you're working up the strength every day—it is no small feat compared to many other patients who had numb limbs."

He merely nods his head, looking past me at nothing like he has nothing going for him, making me a little cross at his new behavior.

I shake my head, "Sir, look at it this way. Obviously no doctor has told you this because this should give you a different viewpoint on your injury. Hamstrings are three muscles at the back of the thigh that affect hip and knee movement. The quadriceps—the strongest and leanest muscles in the body—are a four-muscle group at the front of the thigh that work to extend the knee and lower leg. Any harmful disturbance to it, such as a bullet, can disrupt… your whole body process. It's comparable to almost losing part of your brain."

There was so much more I wanted to say in medical terminology, but I knew he wouldn't understand it, so dumbing it down to a comprehensive level for anyone, hopefully he can understand better.

"It's from older wounds—and it's—I understand, Miss Washington. It makes me feel a bit better, thank you," he forces a pained smile up at me as I go to stand up, but he stops me with his commanding 'general' voice. "I'll do well to remember that next time the doctor comes in. I'll have something to hold above his head for not saying to me."

 _I'll have to warn that doctor… This is an uncouth side to Benedict Arnold._

"Have you seen Benjamin Tallmadge lately?"

"I- I beg your pardon, sir?"

"You, he, and your father talk together sometimes last winter—from what I saw outside my tent. Do you know where he is right now? I've been calling upon for him but I keep being told he isn't around."

I shake my head, feeling a little uncomfortable now that he has been watching us discuss, "No I don't know where he is at all. I just got here an hour or so ago." I shut myself up quickly from speaking anymore excuse, he doesn't have to know. _Just play dumb, he doesn't have to know my business._

"Alright, I'll get another messenger to keep trying to find him. We've been needing to discuss important-" he coughs loudly, rapidly, and reaches for his brandy. "Just thank you for checking on me."

"You're welcome, sir. I'll check back one day soon," my mouth lets slip. So after he nods his head at me, smiling, I leave the tent inwardly berating myself for saying that and thinking of Ben who hasn't been in sight. Or Caleb.

 _Please don't tell me my father hung them or sentenced them?_

"Excuse me," a quiet, and hurrying voice catches my ear behind me.

I turn around and meet face to face with a horse and its dirty muzzle. Then I look up at a regular civilian, filthy and untamed hair not pulled back—Benjamin!

"Where are you going? And dressed like that?" I ask him in a hush after he places his forefinger above his cupid's bow lips, looking rather rough and wild doing so. His hair is shaggy, shoulder length with highlights shining in his brunette strands in the sunlight I never knew he had.

He looks as if he wants to laugh at me, "Meet with _Samuel_ of course. Caleb is on another mission so I'm playing courier for the moment. I'm not going to no ball that's for sure. I'll be back soon, we'll talk more later," he smiles back with a toothy grin and rides off quickly into the trees.

"Ugh, he always leaves so quickly!" I hiss under my breath. _He better stay safe._

Then my father's face finds his way into my mind's eye, and I remember what he said, so I dismiss any thought of Ben—because I don't need to think about him so much, only for the Culper Ring matters which don't involve me currently in this moment.

Then… why do I think of him so much? And wait for his reply from a letter like a little school girl or… her father off fighting in a war? I sigh and head back for the house to stay in for the day, to think and rest.

* * *

 ** _Setauket November 14th_**

Abe runs through the night, heavy breathing out of nerves and the miles he felt like he ran to the tree where intelligence is hidden, and picked up by Caleb. He takes out and opens the flask from inside the hollowed tree, and sees it empty.

"Great," Abe exhales for almost the billionth time today. Nothing has been going in his favor of late, and he is constantly nervous of everything around him.

Just like now, he jumps back with a startled noise hearing a rustle in the bushes right next to the tree, and he whips out his hidden knife to point it at a dark clothed man, wearing a hat (not Caleb though, he notes) with a gun pointed back at him.

"Wha-What the hell is that?" The familiar voice of the man laughs at Abe before breaking into a fit of profound coughing. He takes off his hat as he heaves, almost throwing up but spits on the already cold ground instead.

"Ben? Ben!" Abe exclaims in all shock seeing this man here out of anyone else he expected to see at this time of the year. _There aren't any hangings… What is he here for?_

"Christ, what day is it?" Ben tries regaining focus and feeling in his legs from crouching in the shrubbery for a long length of time. He has been holding in his large cough since he arrived here in case anyone was nearby; it's the same cough he has had since the Delaware incident last winter which makes itself known it is still present in his health every cold season.

"It's Monday," Abe answers. "Wait, how long have you been out here for?"

"I don't know," Ben brushes the dirt off his hat and evens out his already unkempt hair. "Two, three days maybe. I thought you checked the dead drop at week's end!"  
Abe shakes his head, exhaling once more, "No, no, I check it when I can. Do you want to tell me what the hell you're doing here? - Why is Caleb not here? Or Lillian? You shouldn't be out here."

Ben walks up closer to Abe, to speak more discreetly, not that they're in an isolated part of the woods already, "Sorry, he's on assignment in New Jersey, and Lillian is not a courier or ever will be. And this can't wait. I need you to go get Anna and bring her back here. I need to brief you both."  
"Both? No, no. You tell me what you have and I pass that along. This place isn't safe," Abe whispers back.  
"Well, if it were that simple, I'd have written a letter," Ben pats his childhood friend on the cheek in satire. "This has to be in person. Besides, I come bearing gifts."

The Major practically tosses covered items into the cabbage farmer's arms, who looks into his friend's eyes seeing there is no way he is leaving.

"It isn't Christmas yet, Ben," Abe jokingly says looking around, planning the best route to get to the lot of his burnt down house because his cellar is located there.

"Believe me, this is better than Christmas."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now stick close, we're going to my old cellar. Don't speak," Abe informs his friend who nods his head, playing safe.

"What about Anna?"

"I'll go get her. She'll meet us back there; her tavern shouldn't be too busy for a Monday night."

The tavern must be busy, on a Monday night, because Ben waits down in the cellar for such a long time, he begins to wonder if it is morning yet. But he kept himself busy as he set up Sackett's newest creation for composing messages: instead of ink it is 'invisible ink.' He is also thankful to be out of the windy, fall weather, his most not liked season because he and every person in the Tallmadge family becomes drastically ill around this seasonal change than any other.

Putting the phials in their proper racks they came with on the table, and readying the paper and quill for practice trials, he looked around at Abraham's little spy establishment with tools, books, and the codebook scattered on the table. And during his looking, his eyes found a letter with Lillian's wax seal on the envelope.

"What is this doing here?" He asks himself as he decides to open it and take a peek at its contents. He notices she always has some piece of her scattered about and always finds its way to him, at least that's what he notices. Just like her father, she is everywhere at once.

"Sorry-she'll be here soon. There were some rowdy men in there and quite the mess—what are you doing?" Abe asks climbing down the steps, and eyeing Ben holding the letter in his hands.

"She wrote you, what for?" Ben asks curiously who not even begun to read it, too focused on the young woman's large swirly signature at the bottom.

Abe makes it down the last step and walks across the floor to pull the letter out of his friend's nosy hands, "She kindly wrote me and my family and asked how we fare, and.. she asked if I have improved on my way of thinking under pressure."

The laughter that escapes Ben's mouth fills the cellar, and only makes Abe exhale another time.

"Which by the way, did you ever tell her that I never get my best ideas last or second?"

Ben nods his head, wiping his eyes, "Of course I did! She only rolled her eyes. She's a Washington Abe, I can't.." he trails off from what he was about to say, knowing he didn't do as he said he should. _'I can't disrespect a Washington or argue further with them. No matter what it is.'_  
"And what you said earlier how it isn't safe here, then she definitely shouldn't be going anywhere near here ever again."

"How did she handle the news of Baker? I never heard the end of it. Is she coping?" Abe asks, completely ignoring his friend's exclamation.

Ben licks his lips, shrugging as he picks up a quill and the first phial, "Well, she teared up of course when I- Caleb and I told her, but she probably did break into a sob after she ran back inside. But no, she said no more of it to us."

"I wish I never killed the man," Abe thinks back to killing Ensign Baker in his house before his wife burned it to the ground with the corpse inside.

Ben steps back, looking at the tired looking farmer in disbelief, "What? Abe he found out about the ring! He heard you speak of Washington to his wife with you sleeping child upstairs! You did right. It's what any intelligent man would've done."

"But he loved Lillian. I killed her friend," Abe spits back. "I tried telling him to—"

"He wasn't her friend after he became a part of the King's militia. She's our friend now, and his death is in the past. Besides.." Ben sighs as he ignores his friend's watchful gaze.

Not seeming to mind his friend not finish his sentence, Abe looks at the gifts Ben has brought him and comments, "What's all this? Look, I know, the codebook, the egg, they're not safe."  
Taking a phial with a clear liquid in it, which looks like water in Abe's eyes, and dipping the quill once or twice, Ben begins writing on the paper in a swirlish format, "But this, this is."

"That's brilliant there, Ben," Abe praises in mockery looking over his friends shoulder, seeing nothing on the paper.  
Ben only grins, "Look, this clear fluid is called the agent. And the green is the reagent. Now you apply just a little bit with a very fine brush. It took us months to acquire this much."

Picking up the small brush, dabbing it into the green reagent ever so much, he brushed it on top of what he has written in the clear agent.  
"There. Just wait," Ben whispers as he purses his lips and blows on the paper some to make it dry quicker, but he silences as the cellar door creaks open.  
"Abe?" Anna calls down into the cellar with a cautious voice.

 _Perfect._ Ben thinks as he smirks at Abe, patting him on the shoulder before running to the back wall nearest to the cellar entrance but not in sight to surprise Anna.

Abe straightens himself and sits on his stool, waiting for the reagent to dry, "Ahem. Yeah."  
"I came as soon we closed. What have you done to your root cellar? Oh!" Anna shrieks, feeling large arms engulf her from behind ever so lightly and a man's voice feign growling.

"Anna Strong," Ben smiles down at the woman who laughs with him, before hugging him tightly.

"Benjamin!"

"Oh, come on!" Abe rolls his eyes at the two as he looks down at the paper, watching it dry. "He's filthy."

"I thought you had forgotten about us," Anna smiles as they break the hug.

"Who, me? No, I've been down here for months," Ben smirks, gesturing around the cellar before wasting no time because business has to be discussed, so he retrieves a small, carved wooden ship and looking to Anna.

"Good to see you. This is a gift for Abigail. It's made to look like her son carved it. But when she handles it, she will discover this," he begins loosening the bow of the little ship, and takes out the small post to reveal that on the end is a piece of paper wrapped around the end tightly.

"What is it?"

"It's instructions on how to compose her intelligence reports. Washington requires proper protocol and context," Ben begins to explain thoroughly just as Anna cuts him off.  
"No."

"No?"

"No, Abigail had an arrangement with me," Anna shakes her head. "She never volunteered to spy for Washington."  
Ben starts screwing the post with the note back into the ship, and looks down at her in all importance, "Anna, she is vital to us. Right now, she's our only window into Philadelphia."

"She'll be terrified! She won't do it."

"She sent us the information about General Lee. Let her make the choice," he hands her the ship, which she takes just barely and her fingertips grace the sides of it. "I believe she'll make the right one."

"I don't know how I'd get it to her," Anna comments.

"What about Major Hewlett?" Abe mentions earning a glare from the woman. "He's already offered you his friendship. I'm sure he'd send it by special courier for you."

Ben's brow furrows at the mention of the British major, wondering why he is important, but in looking to Abe to pry information out of him, he looks at the paper on the desk.  
"Ah, look! What did I tell you, huh? Invisible ink."  
Anna walks up behind Abe with Ben, jaw dropped at the word _Culper_ , which seamlessly appeared on the paper.

"Magic."  
"No, chemistry," Ben corrects. "I'll show you how to apply it as well. While Abe remains in the city, you'll have to transcribe his letters and Abigail's and put them both into the drop."

"While Abe remains in the city?" Anna questions, looking down at Abe sitting on his stool.

"I was just about to tell him that I can't do it," Abe reassures her before looking to Ben soon after.

"Ben, I can't do it."

"What? Why?" Ben stares at him dumbfounded. "Abe, you're studying the law. It's the perfect cover."

Abe waves his hand to clarify, "If it were that simple, I'd be there already. All right? As it is, I can't stay for longer than a week, so…"

Ben catches the look Abe sends Anna, reminding him of what Caleb informed him of. He knows Abe and Anna have always been fond of each other, but since the broken engagement and Abe marrying his current wife, Caleb has told him how at times they look like they are still struggling to cope with the failed love. At least, Caleb has been noticing it more now that Abe and Anna are working more together for the spy ring. And, in Ben's strong belief, no such feelings like love must be swept aside because what they are risking, and doing so dutifully, can cause the ultimate demise of the spy ring—and worse exposing them all.

All these instant deep thoughts make him exhale an irritated sigh, "Look, whatever's happening between you two, it has to be put aside."

Anna and Abe immediately answer in unison, and both shake their heads negatively, "It's not that."

Ben's eyebrows raise at the two, but looks pointedly at Abe "I can't help you unless you tell me the truth."

Abe ponders for a moment before slamming his fists on the desk out of being pressured to answer _now_ , and he stands up to be level with Anna and Ben, mostly Ben, "The truth is… I have a better solution."

Ben's head twitches to respond, and his eyes roll briefly. _Great, perhaps Lillian is right…_  
Abe takes it that he is listening and continues, "Now what we really need is a friend inside the city."

"We have one. The hairdresser Caleb should've told you about," Ben interrupts. "When I get back which is soon I have to tell Lillian about our plan for him."

"Forget them all for a moment, I found another one, another friend who is also what we need," Abe's voice lowers in significance.

"Ah, another friend? Who?"

"His name's Townsend. He's originally from Oyster Bay, but he runs a boardinghouse in the Bowery now," Abe watches Ben look away uninterested. "He's very smart! He's very discreet."

"Right, this Townsend, he what, he just volunteered?" Ben inquiries.

"Well, he wants to, he just… doesn't know it yet," Abe answers honestly, pausing from choking up on his words mid-way.

 _She was right_ , Ben thinks as he shakes his head agitated, walking past his friend, "Ah, Abe!"

-"Look, I'm travelling to see him tomorrow!"

Ben turns back around, eyes darting everywhere and his hand waving about, "I can't go back with this.  
I can't go back there-"

"Look, Ben, I know him. Trust me," Abe nods his head to his friend.

Ben nods his head back, "Yeah, I do trust you, Abe. But Washington—" His eyes lose the power to speak, and he looks down shamefully. "Washington may not trust me."

The stunned silence that followed was exactly what Ben was expecting with his face hung low and his hair dangling past his cheeks, only making him look more unsound and insecure.

He elaborates further, "I-I-I've earned his disappointment of late and I need something to make up for that."

"Make up for it?" Anna asks bewildered. "He is not a king Ben!"

"My Commander in Chief! In charge of it all! Fighting to secure our liberty and freedom!"

"Talk to Lillian—" Anna swallows, watching all their eyes turn to her expectantly. "Does she know?"

Ben scoffs, "Pfft. I can't tell her that, and then she wouldn't trust me." _Which is exactly what I don't want_ … He thinks back to the burn of the inappropriate letter that wasn't written from him, sitting across from her at the table and earning his first bit of trust from her after her admitting to him that she doesn't trust many, and if she did especially so quickly, it is rare.

"She's barely a part of the ring as it is, and she is helping with what little she offers, and it helps a lot. Everything counts, and to lose her and her trust would make this… balance scale tip in the other direction. Being in her bad favor compared to Washington's is probably worst."

"Her father probably told her," Abe wonder aloud before smirking. " _Stay away from filthy and untrusting Ben!"_

"Look she isn't your superior or in your _bad favor_ yet, she is your friend like me and can ease the tension, maybe walk in with her on your arm or something to relay the information to Washington—"

"She isn't _you_ , Anna," Abe says with hidden meaning earning a gob smacked look from her.

"She isn't my lifeline or bait either! Look, Abe, I need something real or else I'm out," Ben begs.

"All right, all right," Abe steps closer to Ben so he is almost pressed to his chest. "You go back and you tell Washington that I have found our man in New York."

* * *

"You mean to tell me you're avoiding that man like the plague," Maria asks Lillian as if it is no surprise that the young lady is avoiding another man yet again as they fold together some laundry outside at the Morristown, New Jersey camp site.

" _The Black Death_ is what I'd prefer to call it, and that's exactly the feeling you get when he stares you down—like a glare at you that you didn't please him," Lillian fumbles over her words as she folds the clothing more roughly thinking of Gen. Benedict Arnold, who had no manners towards her after she went to check on him the next day with Derik. It was all in his tone and choice of words, and he really had no idea he was being rude.

Maria bursts out laughing, "You don't please anyone, dearest."

Lillian smirks at her friend's humor, "Oh do I know it." Then she catches her friends gaze, and her smile drops. "What is it?"

"Don't look, don't speak to him. It's you know _who_ ," Maria whispers, looking down as she folds slowly.

"Alexander?" Lillian goes to turn around to match the name to the man's flirting face, but instead she sees Benjamin Tallmadge approaching her in his own little stride with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

She looks away, going back to folding laundry pretending she wasn't watching him approach her, but obviously, he did notice because his eyes were set on her to speak with her.

"Miss Washington," he addresses formally, bowing his head to the young woman and the servant beside her. "Maria."

Maria's eyes widen in surprise and fright that he remembered her name.

"Major," Lillian barely looks up at him with the small smile she offers as she folds the clothes.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ben asks, confused by the woman's behavior.

 _No_ , Lillian wants to answer, "Yes—folding laundry isn't all that easy, sir. You soldiers are quite picky how they are neatly arrayed on the clothesline and washed. Bloodstains can't always rub off so cleanly, especially in whites."

He shakes his head at her words, "I had no idea you did this chore, my lady. I thought you to be inside with your father and mother, if not that then tending to the sick or the wounded, or in Mr. Sackett's new hideout."

Her dark eyes finally look up and meet his light blue ones—full of confusion and worry.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir. Mr. Sackett hasn't told me of any hideout. It doesn't sound so fitting for someone like me," she looks to Maria and they both nod in agreement. Truthfully, Ben did make hideout sound like a scandalous place.

"It was a bad choice of words, I apologize," Ben sighs, feeling red in the face, out of embarrassment and anger because he cannot communicate with her freely as he should.

"So were your words to my father, I must say," she stops folding laundry, and watches Ben's mouth agape, and his face pale. Maria took this moment as a chance to step away, but not be far from the woman in case Ben tried something rash.

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

My father's words ring through my head—and guilt from disappointing my father and guilt for treating Ben this way flies all inside of me like bats, trying to bite their way out of my skin to escape.

"How did you-"

I interrupt him, "He told me when I arrived. I'm sure you had no intention to insult him with forged writing from a forced response—it was a good idea… that is if I didn't exist at all and had no say in it. But why didn't you let me know before you did it? I could've stopped you from making a mistake."

"M-Lillian," he says my first name with shameful ferocity. "I apologized to your father soon after I realized my mistake—" he watches my eyes widen. "He must've left that part out."

"He didn't say that, but… he did say that you weren't his son to teach common sense to," I whisper, tears welling in my eyes at his low spirited eyes and face of humiliation. It hurt to see him this way.

And when he looks away from me and feet shift to walk off, my hand with a mind of its own reaches out to his chest to stop him, but it turned out he was only turning to breathe deeply, and simply just not look at me.

But he looks to me in surprise, both at my hand on his chest and my eyes looking up at him with a great amount of respect.

"Do not take his words to heart, Ben. You aren't his son, he was right about that. But you do have common sense, just enough of it you could've written in Thomas Paine's place and I wouldn't notice—and I notice everything," I tell him, smiling at the smirk he gives me at my last input. "He was only frustrated at the moment. If you don't take my word for it then… know that he fussed at me with more anger than towards you, recently."

I look down, embarrassed now, and his eyes are searching my face for answers.

"What did he fuss at you for? You had no part in what I planned- and done!"

I wave him off in his worrying, "No it has nothing to do with that. It actually has to do with the fact that we—we are… communicating frequently."

"Communicating frequently? We are in a spy ring, both handlers, we have to communicate frequently. If we don't-"

"About intelligence gathering matters, yes. But not… writing to each other regularly for…" He finally catches my meaning and he coughs awkwardly and his hand goes to his forehead.

"Christ, he doesn't believe that I-we are—"

"No! He was disappointed in me for not asking him for permission to respond to your reply after my letter of thanks for securing me after the Setauket incident. He didn't think we'd write in a separate manner all together."

He sighs, looking down at his feet.

"We said nothing wrong, Benjamin. Just communicating as friends should," I tell him, and at that he looks back up at me, a few strands of hair in his face having fallen out of its even, slicked back plait. "And can."

"I'm—I'm glad—pleased… glad you say so. It's an honor being your friend, Lillian, and I don't want to lose that friendship if I can help it. You're important to me… us all."

 _What?_ My heart stops at his words. _That was one of the sweetest things said to me in a very long time from someone who has heart and a thinking brain, and doesn't smell of whiskey or wine._

"I can say the same to you," I beam as I watch him swallow timidly. "But for now, until my father calms down, I can't be seen with you and I shouldn't be speaking to you."

"Then we can speak with no disturbance in Mr. Sackett's hide—barn," he corrects himself and blushes at his words overall.

I raise an eyebrow, and look around, "What is this barn? And where is it anyway…"

"It's off to the side of the main house, behind the trees," he says retracting his hand quickly, not wanting to point in front of the other soldiers to giveaway a private spot. As he did so, I watched his arm fall back to his side in his relaxed standing posture, leaning on his side and his right leg bent out, only pronouncing his same tight yellow pants even more which is sticking to his skin so tightly... _things_ are visibly noticed. _Heavens Ben! No one has told you?_ _I'll make effort to do that tonight._

"Is nightfall alright, to meet? We have much to discuss about Freddy in New York."

"Yes, 'ten would be perfect," I say catching someone looking at us near the main house, protectively. "See you later, Ben."

"See you… later," his reply trails off I walk away quickly to the direction of Lt. Colonel Hamilton, who looks pleased, and his eyes shift back behind me towards Ben as if to make sure he is where he last saw him standing.

"Lieutenant," I greet with a genuinely delighted smile.

"Miss Washington," he smiles back. "What did I tell you, that you can call my by name?"

"Oh but not in public sir, people would think we are serious, in terms of courting of course," I say evening out my powder blue dress, the same dress I wore in the company of late Nathan Hale.

"I have no problem with that," he admits, making me gulp. "And is what I would like to speak to you about, before the cold sets in because when it sets in I stay in my tent making as little human contact as possible."

I laugh at his humor, because he sounds just like me.

"Do not think I don't do much—I'd travel out of my tent just to see you any day no matter what the weather…" _My heart pounds in my chest._ "Would you like to accompany me on a walk?"

I place my small hand in his larger one, with stains of ink on his palms from writing a whole lot, "I'd be delighted."

"Excellent," he beams as we walked further and further away from most of the soldiers walking about, his face grew more serious. "And now that we are a good distance away, I can ask you: did the Major displease you in any way just then?"

"No!" I quickly answer. "We were speaking about our spy chain. I know what my father said but I can't just stop speaking to him!"

"Of course, I understand completely—you know what is best," he smiles down at me with a princely sparkle in his eyes. "I am just making sure because I care about your well-being and safety."

"Do you?" I glance up at him from under my eye lashes, attempting to flirt just as he does. And I'm successful, because he reddens and gulps thickly.

"More than life itself," he seizes both of my hands and I freeze. "Lillian, with the blessing of your father and mother, I'd like to ask of you if you wish to court me?"

For some reason, Baker appeared in my mind, but soon vanished replaced with Alexander looking down at me with absolute love in his eyes.

"I have grown extremely fond of you even more so than the night we first met, and I'd hate to ignore such a potent connection towards you," he expounds very detailed.

"I agree."

"So? Will you have me, my lady?"

Being bold, I take one of my hands out of his, and place it alongside his face gently, searching his eyes for any trickery, lies, or any mistrust before I answer.

"Yes."

" _Excellent_ ," he whispers in a big smile, and proud eyes as he places a kiss on my forehead, surprising me that he didn't try that the first night we met. "Let's go share the joyous news with your parents, yes?"

"Yes," I smile and giggle at his anxiousness, and him gripping my hand and leading me back towards the main house energetically.

 _But… what is that weird feeling? That something will go wrong? I worry much yes, but…_

"This color looks astounding on you, my Lilly," he compliments, looking down at my dress briefly with a blissful face. _Of course it's everyone's favorite, even my mother's because it shows cleavage!_

"Thank… you," I have trouble saying as we go up the steps and head inside to find my parents… who are waiting for us in the foyer with expectant faces and trying hard to hide it.

"Ah, Lt. Colonel. I see you have found my daughter," My father smiles at the both of us, and his eyes begin to glisten when he see my visibly flushed face that is warm from Alexander's words and kiss to the forehead still. The whole event really!

"Yes I have," he holds my hand tightly with our arms linked as if we were back at the ball. "And we have some good news."

"Oh?" My mother pries. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. They both know! _Wait… they set us both up…_

"Would you like to tell them?" Alexander looks to me.

I swallow, and blush at the attention on me from all of them, but mostly Alexander.

"Sure. Father, mother, Alexander has asked me about courtship, and I said yes," I felt as if I rehearsed the words in my mind, and I stumbled over them, and said them too quickly, but no one seemed to mind or notice because my parents were smiling so big—I never dreamed it possible.

I never even dreamed it possible I'd be courting someone I met just this summer…

And I never dreamed it possible that I'd find myself having trouble speaking…

 _To love and not speak? Perhaps it is…what I've been missing all along…_

 **A/N: *Dodges rocks, knives, and frying pans* Yes, Lillian and Alexander Hamilton fell in love, this is what I'd imagine to happen if Washington did have a daughter age suitable to court and 'available,' and I figured Hamilton would be fond of his daughter since he is close with the man and is so very trusted. But of course, it won't be perfect, and things will happen... and it may or may not be meant to be. That's why it's in two parts ;) Soooooo, what did you think? I feel like I have been having trouble writing lately, like my mind is not taking its time as it should be- 'writing like I'm running out of time' lol. But I reread this countless times, and it didn't feel rushed. Sorry if it seems rushed to some. The weather changing to fall is what is probably doing it. Part 2 of this will be here soon! Thank you!**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	23. Chapter 23: Men of Blood pt2

**Chapter 23:**

 _~Evening November 17_ _th_

Casually sipping her scalding hot tea, the young Miss Washington bites her lip and hisses at its extreme warmth.

"It can't be that hot my dear," Martha tells her daughter from the dining room, sipping her own tea sitting down alone in a small, upholstered chair.

Lillian pauses in her pacing and looks at her mother, "It is! I never bite my lip or hiss. Maybe some honey will do the trick…"

"Honey will only make it sweeter, _honey_ ," Martha smiles at her daughter's sarcastic frown. "And to remind you, you don't like honey."

"And to remind myself, why am I drinking so much tea again?"

"So you don't fall ill this fall and winter season! You told me this morning you have a dry throat—"

"I am a nurse, mother. I was only thirsty for some water," Lillian says while blowing on the tea as much as she could before shoving it to her mouth while it was still cool and no steam was rising from it.

"Just in case," Martha mumbles just before a hard, sturdy knock on the door is heard.

"He's here!"

"This Benjamin fellow is not allowed near you—"

 _Please don't be Ben… We're supposed to meet at 10 near the barn._

"It's not him, mother. It's probably Alexander."

Sure enough, Lillian opens the door gently with a ladylike grace, and smiling up at the Scottish American man, soldier, and _aide-de-camp_ who stole her heart with his sharp intelligence, thoughtful verses, charming looks, and a flirting grin.

"Lillian, my heart's song," Alexander Hamilton takes her offered hand swiftly and bows before her, kissing her hand sweetly before stepping inside the main house (headquarters), and shutting the door behind him.

"I thought you to be busy?" Lillian's question comes out more as a statement, to which he smiles bright nevertheless.

"Never too busy for you; it is only one report and some essays. Your father sent for me to meet him, but it appears he has not arrived back himself yet. With the permission of your mother, and after I set these down, perhaps we can have a seat and enjoy each other's time while I wait," Alex looks to Martha for confirmation, who nods her head politely with a kind smile from the small dining room, still sitting down and sipping her tea.

"Well, follow me to his office to set them down, then we can have a seat in the parlor," Lillian smiles happily, leading him to her father's office. Then she wonders why did she volunteer this when he has been here so many times before, and knows the way himself?

But in her inner musings, she barely paid attention to the man she is courting behind her, following closely with papers pressed to his chest and his eyes focused on her curt walking form.

"I apologize for not giving any warning of my arrival," he says once they enter the office, and her father's desk is slanted on an angle, paperwork piled across it, and the eye of the entire room: a painting of her father in Commander in Chief attire sits on an easel.

"Oh no, there is nothing to apologize for! You are at work, and I am living at your workplace it seems and have come to distract you," she responds, and at this he chuckles. "I pray not so much. You have a lot going for you, from what you have told me and what my father has told me, he speaks very highly of you, sir."

"Well, that is wonderful to hear," he humbly exclaims as he moves some papers to the side to create a space for his finished works and in the process works. "And know that nothing distracts me from the now."

She hums with a sweet smile, watching him look down at his writings with so much care and devotion; the young woman couldn't help to not fawn over his grave professional manner. He holds himself up well, and gives off the impression he is much older and wise.

"May I?" Lillian gestured to his densely worded essays and testaments on the government and the country trying to win its independence.

"Wha—Certainly! Please help yourself to any of those. I would greatly appreciate your feedback if you find yourself at the end of what I have thus far, and I apologize for the length of all of them it is unnaturally long; you have a penchant for reading do you not?"

She takes the paper he was looking for the longest time at, and goes to sit in the chair across from her father's desk, "Yes I do have a great liking for reading and since I do, no length deters me from viewing its contents. Wow these are lengthy, though."

"That-that is wonderful music to my ears," he gulps watching her from his place now sitting beside her having pulled over a chair from the corner to sit next to her. He watches her eyes wander from word to word, sentence to sentence, and focus on some words and reread over again, watching her fingers curl and uncurl to stretch from holding the paper, her lips mouth some words silently, _his words. Ones he will speak in front of people one day._

Not aware of his actions, he found himself moving his chair closer to hers, and peering down at his essay trying to pinpoint where she is looking presently. But in the process of looking back up at her eyes, her brown eyes, sparkling from the candlelight in the room, are focused on him.

"This was exquisite; we share many of the same thoughts and opinions, at least we should because we're American aren't we?" This made him laugh. "The financial stability needs some important attention," she says next, not sure where to pinpoint exactly where he stated issues of finances because he wrote densely and small, so she resorts in putting the papers back in order and setting them back on the desk where she found them. "No wonder why my father likes you and trusts you as much as he does. You share the same opinions with him as well."

"It takes some convincing at times, honestly, when it comes to talking with your father. He is not so easily won over by new concepts and other viewpoints. Not that he is ever wrong or would never claim to be wrong because he would if it meant to move forward—he is what every man should be. Inherent honesty and earnest willingness to defend his ideals, much like yourself and every other young, scrappy and hungry patriot. There are minor differences… beliefs in the politics which I fear for. Minor, yet major, somehow, and salient."

She looks at him curiously, "What… kind of differences? I thought it was all supposed to be equal? _We_ are all supposed to be equal?" she felt funny saying it like that, but it was the only way she can ask it. He is making it sound as if the government or every American isn't agreeing with each other.

He shakes his head, "We are. Exactly, Lillian, we are supposed to be equal, and that day will come when it is equal for _all_. We will always attain perseverance. People like you and I, readers and writers must put the thoughts they have on anything that seems… off, and the pain they have felt all their lives to this present onto paper, and let their words sing, spill off the flute and ring acutely with the drumming of our heartbeats until our intentions are made well and clear."

"Yes," tears in her eyes and breath taken away as she nods her head in all agreement. "Alexander, you truly have a gift to changing minds and winning hearts if not the other way around as well."

"And did I?"

"And did you, what?"

"Win your heart?"

The question caught her off-guard, but she adjusts easily as she realizes how close he is sitting by her, their knees touching, his faded white clad pants clashing with her powder blue dress.

"Was that too bold of me?" He asked fretfully, frowning at her taken-aback face.

She extends her fingers to his, closing the gap of their hands by lightly lacing them together on the table.

"Since that _lovely summer night at a splendid ball_. Yes you did win my heart, I did say yes to your courtship proposal have I not?" she responded honestly, feeling her heart beat faster at him puffing out his chest, seeing a lopsided grin take up his lips.

And she felt his eyes on her lips, so she looked at his. But in the process of looking back up, he was looking at her. He raised his hand to brush her hair behind her neck, retreating one hand to hold hers once more, and the other to cradle her face, to pull her closer to his face, and to kiss her chastely on her expectant and eager lips.

They part, but they hold their place, looking into each other's eyes with love pouring from them, back and forth into pools of dark blue and golden brown.

"Was that too much? Or too soon?" He asked gently. "I'm-"

She shook her head, "No, not at all."

"Good because in that kiss, I wanted to express my love for you. I love you, Lillian."

Her heart was thudding in her ears, and all heat was in her face, she must've been blushing like a little school girl! The thought normally would have made her self-conscious, but this wasn't one of those times. Not when she was sitting in front of- next to a man she has grown to like and _love_.

She let out a shaky, shy breath, and a thrilled smile grew showing her pearly teeth.

Squeezing his hand tightly as he readjusts his grip on it, "I love you too… Alexander."

"Truly?"

"Truly!" She laughs as he kisses her hand.

"Did I miss the meeting?" Her father's voice asks from the entrance to his office, and instantly both of the lovebird's faces blush, and their smiles drop.

Alexander stands up at his Commander's voice, "No sir. I was waiting for you, and in my waiting Lillian has joined me and offered some of her input on the issues I'm addressing."

Her father looked taken aback, and looked to his daughter, taking off his tricorn, "Oh, well I pray she didn't boldly speak.."

"No of course not!" Alexander and Lillian answer in unison but she let's the man explain further. "I asked for her feedback, because having a brilliant mind like hers… " he trails off, looking across the room into her eyes, and Lillian now realizes that while they got up, they put some space in between them. _Proper… Uncomfortable?_

"Oh, well then," her father gives the man the slightest of smiles and bows his head to his daughter, which meant it was time for her to leave so they can attend business.

 _"Don't worry, I know my place in man's world, father,"_ she thinks to herself… or so she thought. She felt her lips shut, and a voice die in her throat as she looked back at Alexander staring into her eyes apologetically… And her father's strict parenting face ultimately read: _We will talk later._

 _Well not tonight… Because I am meeting Benjamin._

* * *

Ten minutes before 10:00 p.m., Benjamin entered the barn filled with gadgets, weapons, and gizmos. He arrived early just in case Lillian may have been able to arrive early, and he had nothing else to do in the meantime but sit on a stool and dwell on Gen. Benedict Arnold's words from earlier while lighting a couple candles for some light. It turned out while he was gone; he was summoned three days prior (a slap on the wrist from the General, but Washington's orders come first all the time). Once he returned, and went to report to him, he wasn't expecting any of what he said to actually be said. And most of it he didn't know what to think of it.

He lets out a yawn just when he hears a faint knock on the barn door, and soon the door groans.

"Ben?" he hears her whisper from the entrance, and makes eye contact with her as she shuts the door.

"Over here," he returns her smile as he stands up from his stool, feeling guilt in his chest from not being able to come for her and escort her here himself. But, rules or rules; _temporary_ rules at least. "Did you come here without any problem?"

"It's all well. Derik brought me over; he's with me every move I make while I'm here," she laughs while pulling the hood of her cloak down. "If he wasn't here then I'd go nowhere. My brother is in his own world in the meantime."

"Your brother's here? Well, half-brother?"

"Yes, but I call him brother. And no he isn't here, and probably never will be. He's with his wife and babies, and being lazy," she rolls her eyes thinking of her brother. He is said to have run some errands for George Washington, but people exaggerate his help when he is really staying home and taking care of his own land, and his family's while they are away.

Finally her eyes adjust to the dark barn and the little candlelight, and she takes in her interesting surroundings.

"Wish I were in his place," he shakes his head just when he corrects himself. "Being lazy that is. Any break from… _all of this_ would be great. Some peace in my life, but that won't come for some time I'm afraid to say."

She is laughing from what he first said still, "I was about to say. You of all people do not need a baby or a wife right now. Just… so much could go wrong at this time."

Her tone faltered in the end as she looked down at her feet. _I shouldn't be telling him this, or how to live his life! What's in to me lately? I haven't been speaking properly,_ she thinks.

"Exactly," he agrees with her. "You're one of the very, very few who understand that from whom I came across so far, men in this camp. And you're the only woman in that few."

She looks up and meets his gaze, his cheeks flustered pink from his own words and staring at her for so long.

"Aw, I'm special," she giggles to herself making him laugh heartily.

"Yes you are. You're helping us get intelligence from the enemy, and now hopefully behind their lines even more so with the help of this."

Shaking her head, she gestures to his desk, "What is all of this? Is this what I'm here for?"

He clears his throat as he takes a phial and begins explaining the same procedure he told Abe.

"With the clear agent, like this," he takes the quill, dips it into the clear liquid, and writes _Culper_ , but nothing is visible on the paper yet. "Then you take the green phial, the reagent, and apply it ever so gently with a fine brush…"

He takes a small brush, dips it in, and evenly brushes it across the writing he's done.

Lillian looks on interested, but very confused, and Ben catches this making him grin.

"You're stunned speechless, are you," he laughs at her puckered brow and pursed lips which is her 'thinking look.'

"Very. I have been stunned speechless at everything of late which isn't in my character," she admits with a hint of gloom. "It must be the weather change and the people I've been dealing with, especially my father. Is it drying now?"

He swallows, trying to divert the conversation back to what she is saying because he wants to know more, "Yes it's drying, and it'll take but a moment. I've noticed that you appear distressed, I'm sorry you have been feeling that way."

She grits her teeth, venting to herself, "Great, I even appear distressed. I can't do anything right, nothing I do pleases anyone!"

"That isn't true! You heal people, they survive—" he blinks when he watches her eyes drop in spirit, because she only lost that one soldier who had the rusty bullet in his leg. "You heal them all very well and all except one is alright! You weren't the doctor in charge of him. And look you're—you're helping your father, who is the Commander and Chief of this army, and directing the ring. You're helping your country. It may not please the people that are close to you—but it pleases me, and I know your parents are pleased as well, and proud."

She raises her eyebrow, but her lips upturn into a quick smile, "Thank you, I suppose. But it's not just the spy ring; it's more of _me_ personally that doesn't please anyone. As time is wearing on, I don't believe my father is that proud of me anymore. Now that is a different matter altogether. Whoa…"

Her jaw drops as she moves closer to Ben, and looks down at the paper with the word _Culper_ suddenly on it when it wasn't before! To make sure it's real her hand, slowly, she pokes the paper with her finger feeling the sticky substance drying still, but sure enough it is real.

"Amazing isn't it?"

She lets out one little laugh, and her eyes light up, "It's more than amazing! This changes everything."

"Precisely," he says reaching for a small case, which is the small case she sent her father's dagger in with intelligence inside of it. "-which leads to the discussion of our hairdresser in New York."

"He travels a lot; he isn't always in New York."

"Which is what we need, we need diversity in reports. Everyone counts."

"Yes."

He nods his head, satisfied with her answer, then looking down at the box in his hands, "You already got ahead of yourself with sending this to your father instead of the regular postal service, in case of interception. What Mr. Sackett and I had in mind was to keep this idea of exchanging to New York—and intelligence inside of the item, but instead of weapons you will send him hair tools."

"I'm not sure if my blacksmith can make that happen… "

He flips open the box to reveal a shaving knife for men, "Maybe not all things, but this dull blade can probably be created."

She gasps as she reaches in the box and picks it up gently, careful to not touch the blade, "These contraptions are way over my head. How do men even use these?"

"So there is something you don't know…" He smirks.

She glances back up at his sarcastic face with an unamused face, "I'm not a 'know it all', _Ben_ , unlike you. And _Abe_ apparently."

He let out a bark of laughter at that, and laughed so hard his eyes squeezed shut, "In speaking of him-"

"Oh dear."

Speaking with a rise and fall of chest from laughter, he is able to tell her through a tight smile, "I see what you mean now… He had one of his quick ideas without thinking deeper on the effects of what could happen. And you're taking this new invention better than him."

"God bless him," she laughs with him. "But is he doing well?"

"Yes he is fine. His family is too, he hasn't had time to respond to your letter.." he trailed off when he said that and she immediately loses her smile.

"Now that letter my father didn't know about and he never has to. He mainly doesn't want me communicating with any of his men in writing. I am completely just in communicating with a civilian I met once, and it was only one letter. I won't be writing him anymore."

"He's very strict on who you speak to," Ben points out. "I saw you walk towards the Lieutenant Colonel as well, without chaperone. Unless he designated him to be a chaperone.."

"Actually he designated him as fit to court me," she smiles a thin happy smile, and a self-conscious blush permeates her high cheekbones. "He asked me after I left speaking with you."

Benjamin's face was stock frozen in surprise, and mouth ajar which is what he has been doing lately at everything _(Abe, Gen. Benedict Arnold, Washington.. Always Caleb but he resorted long ago to just accept he is the way he is)._

He returns her obviously happy smile, and smirks at her sweet blushing, "That's wonderful news, I suppose. You look nervous."

Her smile lessens as she maintains eye contact with the major, "I am. We met at the ball this summer… and I don't know if I should be angry or not at my parents who have basically put us together after I grew up with them telling me I can fall in love on my own time. I guess I'm too slow for them."

Ben frowns at that, "Well… how old are you?"

"I beg your pardon? Never ask a lady their age."

Sensing her humor in that, he lets out a little laugh and waits for her response.

"I just turned twenty in May. Which is a suitable age still... What about you?"

"23. My birthday was in February. Now let me say, if I may say, you shouldn't court if you aren't happy. You make the decision—"

"Yes I did, and I am happy. I-I couldn't say no, he is a good man. My father made him his aide-de-camp! That's—that's a lot of trust," she looks down at her feet with cold tears welling in her eyes. "I'm still getting to know the man, really."

Ben's heart stopped at the familiar word, _aide-de-camp_. Gen. Benedict Arnold has a position open for the job and has offered it to the young major who also spies for Washington. He hasn't considered moving up in ranks after Washington made him his Head of Intelligence, but after speaking to Benedict Arnold himself, and now Lillian Washington… _courting the_ _ **aide-de-camp**_ _of_ _ **Washington**_ … Perhaps he could, and should, consider this offer now. It'll make him a stronger officer, not 'weak' as Arnold put it. And it will probably be what will earn his trust back from the Commander.

"Yes, yes it surely is a sign of ultimate trust," he looks down at his desk in deep thought.

"In speaking of trust, can't I just mail him regularly without doing tools? I trust he'd keep us safe."

He hums as he looks up at her, suddenly remembering they were speaking business prior to small talk, "It is only in case you feel there is too much 'empty mail' going to him. It's to not make it look suspicious to anyone who looks upon it. In New York, I wouldn't be surprised if anyone goes through the mail before the receiver obtains it. It's them we don't trust."

She nods her head ever so much, worry in her eyes, "Right. Alright."

"Are you sure?"

She doesn't respond, but she takes the box holding the shaving blade from him, and shuts it.

For the longest time it is a comfortable silence and Benjamin just looks at Lillian in the dim candlelight of the dark barn as she simply looks down at her feet and the desk trying to stay awake. She is expecting him to explain something else to her while he notes that she looks tired and frustrated emotionally from what she was telling him prior to their Culper discussion.

"Is that all you wished to discuss Major—Ben?" She yawns in her speech. "Sorry I'm used to manners every second of the day, and excuse me for yawning I'm exhausted."

"Its fine, and yes that is all," he continues looking at her, as he leans on the desk trying to figure her out some more, and enjoy this little bit of time that he considers _peace_. But a nagging part in the back of his mind is pressuring him to say something… Something he doesn't even know because it is not on his mind to say, so if he opened his mouth, only air would spill from his lips.

What is on his mind to say is that _Lt. Colonel Hamilton is a lucky man…_ Then he is reminded of something to tell her.

"Alright well I guess I'll—" She makes to leave but he tells her to wait, so she stops and looks at him assiduously.

With a tight jawline, but calm eyes as the sea at night, he tells her tenderly, "Lillian, you're aren't weak. I want you to know that. Everything you do, which is everything good and right, is noticed, appreciated, and taken to heart by all. You don't have to change, and you never have to, for anyone or anything, because you are a sensible woman, and a strong lady through and through."

"Thank you, Benjamin. I appreciate it," she blinks not only at his benevolent words, but at his self-assured demeanor and taut jawline. "But, I want you to know that no one is weak, especially not you."

His tight jaw loosens, and his mouth goes dry at the words he was just saying and thinking minutes ago.

She continues, " _Everything you do, which is everything good and right, is noticed, appreciated, and taken to heart by all._ You don't change either, for not one person in this world. Can you promise me that?"

Her words made all his worries and stress of anything and everything melt away so fast, he had trouble catching his breath once more from being on the receiving end of her steady, big, brown eyed gaze.

"Yes, I can. I promise."

"And one more thing before I go?"

"Of course."

Yawning, but forcing her eyes open to ask the question that has been plaguing her mind all summer, "What promise did you keep in that letter you wrote me? The first response?"

He straightens his posture and squares his shoulders, "I defended your honor, and your father's. There were men saying untrue and inappropriate things. That was the promise I made to you when I burned the letter, that you are respected no matter if you're here or not by every soldier here. I am a moral gentleman."

Her eyes convey their thanks silently because her heart is caught in her throat from his solid confidence, and marveled by his genuine words.

And Ben acknowledges this with a bow of his head.

Raising her thumb and forefinger to mouth to lick, then going to one of the candles and pinches the flame, she extinguishes it all together with a sizzle.

"I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight Ben," she holds her hand out to him to shake his hand, but blinks in realization what she is doing and implying. Women don't shake hands with men too often if not at all.

But regardless, chuckling, and smiling Ben takes her hand and shakes it ever so delicately.

"I hope so. Goodnight Lilly."

Then the young woman made her leave, leaving Ben alone in the barn for only a few more moments thinking of the other serious and relaxed conversations they could've had if it weren't so late, until finally he blows out the last few candles, and smoke smelling of burnt wax fills his senses.

* * *

Early the next morning, George Washington dressed in proper uniform attire heads for his office, and not expecting the sight before him…

There in his seat, behind his desk, was his daughter sound asleep upright, and chin tilted down on her chest. He sighs tenderly at the sleeping young lady, who he took in when she had no other family, and have raised her to be a strong, sensible woman…

Reminding him much of their days at home, and nights she couldn't sleep, she would join him in his office and fall asleep in one of his chairs since she was eleven. And when he isn't home up unto this day, his heart swells with love hearing from his wife that she still goes to his office, no matter where, for comfort and security.

He decides to sit in a chair across from her, and wait for her to awaken bright eyed, which is fifteen minutes later.

Blinking her already diligent eyes into focus, rubbing the sleep out of them and yawning, she jumps then relaxes at the sight of her father looking at her expectantly. _They need to talk._

"You are wearing the same dress you wore yesterday, may I ask why?" He asks her.

Holding his gaze she responds soon after, "I was too tired to change. I've been up thinking, and practicing our ring's new method of communicating."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Sackett did mention the idea of 'invisible writing'. However, what were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about how I haven't been myself lately, as you all have been saying and, believe me, I've noticed from the beginning because that is what I thought. I thought you wanted me to change. Is that why you put me and Alexander together? For him to calm me down and control me?"

His eyes burn into hers, and he stiffens in his seat, "Where would you get that idea? Lillian your mother and I would never do that to you. We—We wouldn't force you into anything that petty and erroneous. I was only surprised to hear that one summer night at a ball that I didn't have the time or allowance to attend to be with my wife and daughter, before the winter, that a man impressed you so much. I was worried…"

"About what?"

Standing up, lips in his usual thin smile, but warm towards her, he goes to her side, "I was worried I didn't make the right decision. The decision to either fight, or stay at home and help where I could to be with my step-children and grandchildren. A man leaving his daughter for who knows how long and only being able to see her in the winter? I'm missing every part of your precious life. You aren't little anymore, yes, but you are still growing up… That is the change in you I am seeing. And it is good—"

She stands up with a choked cry and hugs him tightly after he trails off to hug her just as tight, "I'll always be your little girl. You didn't make the wrong decision. You're doing it for us all. You're the best, bravest, and greatest father in the world."

His mouth cracks into a wide smile, and he shakes his head in disbelief, "Thank you. I'm happy you think so and I still have your support as you do mine. And know that you are to never change. Your mother and I have been strict of late. Please speak to your mother and keep nothing else from her or I after this. We only want your happiness."

He caringly kisses her hands that he raises to his lips before adding with an inquisitive brow, "You are acting different today. You are… yourself. What caused that, my dear?"

She smiles, shrugging, "Someone wise, and bold to even speak a word towards me after what he has been told not to…" Washington's face falls, knowing who she is speaking of. "He impresses me as well, but I knew him long before Mr. Hamilton, and as you and mother know, he impressed me very well. This someone, a certain Major and Head of Intelligence who somehow seemed to have got on your bad side, has been one of my closest friends—and I have none, father, outside the slaves at home—"

He looks down at her considerately, politely waiting for her to finish with an attentive ear, ignoring the entrance of Mr. Sackett.

"Oh! Good heavens, good morning Miss Lillian," Mr. Sackett greets the girl with a pleased face. "Did I- Am I interrupting?"

"Good morning Mr. Sackett. And no I'm almost through," she smiles back before turning back to her father.

"And I don't trust not just anyone, to be my friend or be a part of my life. But Major Tallmadge is a moral gentleman, and his words yesterday shone brighter than his character. Not only he convinced me I do not need to ever change, he also informed me he defended my honor this past summer… and yours."

"Is that so?" Washington tightens his eyes. Mr. Sackett stands close by, listening in on it discreetly.

"Yes, because not only that is his role as head of intelligence to be your eyes and watch out for your safety, but integrity as well. For me, however, isn't just because I'm a Washington as well, but a lady, his friend, and a fellow spy."

Washington ponders his daughter's words with his characteristic thoughtful and proud smile.

"You gave him that position for a reason," Lillian adds.

"Of course, everything I do is with reason and tactful arrangement..." he gestures to his smaller maps of the colonies and chess pieces on his desk. "Before soldiers arrive in here, I suggest you head to your room and rest further and change your clothes. And I'll consider…"

She looks over to the grandfather clock and her eyes widen at the time. It isn't even five in the morning!

"Yes father," she bows her head, and before she leaves she quickly pecks a kiss on his cheek.

While leaving, she hears her father hum and Mr. Sackett chuckle and mention something about daughters being very convincing, well, all women are.

 _Humming is good. Humming means he is thinking good thoughts._

He is thinking of her and what she said.

 _Excellent._

* * *

 _ **Later that morning**_

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Benjamin walks into his Excellency's office, bowing his head.

"Major Tallmadge, I believe an apology is in order," the man starts, but saying nothing for some time causing Ben to think _he_ needs to apologize.

"I-" they both speak in unison. Ben clears his throat, bowing his head to his Excellency who nods back, eyeing him closely.

"A little bird came by this morning, and sung its precious heart out to me some confessions that have yet come to my attention. Is it true that you defended me and my family's honor?" The tall man asks him.

Ben's mind is filled with the image of his Excellency's daughter, standing beside him with the confident smile she always adorns.

He blinks, "Yes, sir. It is true."

 _Perhaps I always had my Head of Intelligence…_ Washington thinks. _But I am still certain he is blind, or, in the course of going blind all together. But for my daughter, and her good reason, and I trust her, I will see to give him another chance._

Washington merely stays silent at his response, and goes on to changing the subject.

"I have yet to hear of the report from your mission. How does our Culper fare?"

Ben straightens himself, and looks his Commander assertively in the eye, "He believes to have found our man in New York."

* * *

After an interesting meet with his Excellency, and spent an entire day with Mr. Sackett, Benjamin walks into Benedict Arnold's tent at nightfall. His eyes widen at the man wobbling on both legs in a slanted stance, leaning on his sword for support.

"Impressed?" The general asks out of breath.

"Very much so, sir."

The injured man beams, "Wait until you hear this. ' _It has been several years since last we met, yet I recall your gentlemanly mien and… abounding vigor, and pray that you are rapidly returned to your former health._ '- Guess who it's from."

Ben smirks briefly in amusement after hearing the odd string of words from an obviously important figure, almost womanly from how it sounds, "No idea."

"Miss Peggy Shippen of Philadelphia," the man answers in a bragging tone. "Oh, she's very rich, you know? Remarkable to receive more goodwill from the enemy's lines than one's own colleagues. Speaking of, what news from the viper's nest?"

Ben frowns, expecting this question to be asked because it is what the general asked of him to do, "Well, it's just as you suspected, sir. General Lee and General Gates fear to denigrate the commander to his face, but they certainly exchange looks behind his back."

Arnold nods his head, gritting his teeth, "Cowards. They hide in the shadows just like in the field."

"Well, they are not, however, afraid to denigrate you, sir," Ben informs unwaveringly.

"How? What did they say?"

"They say if obliged to choose between gold and his country, you would select the former," Ben quotes with continued shock from hearing this as well about the man,and looks at his crestfallen face feeling bad for him. "They say that you lack even a minimal sense of honor."

"And was Washington present when these things were said?"

"Yes, sir, he was."  
"And what was his contribution?" Arnold expectantly asks.

Ben notices, and he almost doesn't answer, "He made none, sir. He neither spoke in your defense nor spoke against you. He said nothing."

Benedict's face tightens in anger and resentment, and frustration at his leg as he drags himself over to his bedpost; slapping away Ben's helping hand and arm, until sitting himself on his bed with a thud, staring holes into the ground.

Ben interrupts the seconds of silence, causing the disheveled man to look up at the major, "Sir, has the position of your aide-de-camp been filled? For if not, I wish to apply for the post."

Arnold looks down, in recalling, "And what of your special assignment for Washington?"

Ben nods his head confidently and in reassurance, squaring his shoulders, "I can fulfill both duties, sir. Neither will detract from the other."

"Really?" Arnold sarcastically leers before spitting at him. "What is this secret detail that you cannot _possibly_ relinquish?"

Ben breaks eye contact with the angry man, in much deliberation if he should tell him… Why not? He is a respected general and has shown no ill will towards Washington or the army.

"Intelligence, sir," Ben tells. "Acquisition, translation."

"Intelligence?" Arnold bores his unsatisfied eyes into his, not expecting that answer.

"Yes, sir."

In continued disgruntlement, he scorns, "Tell me, where is the personal honor in that?"

Ben froze at the man's words, sweating already from what he just informed, and not sweating in bullets from being spoken to in such a way. _Did he actually ask that?_ His mind asks loudly as he maintained a neutral face.

"What I mean to say, Benjamin, is that you are a man of blood, not some deskbound clerk," Arnold elaborates with narrowed eyes. "You can be a spy or you can be a soldier, but you can't be both."

Immediately, Ben found himself staring into the large, doe, brown eyes of Lillian, glistening up at him with candor and dare he say admiration: _'Everything you do, which is everything good and right, is noticed, appreciated, and taken to heart by all. You don't change either, for not one person in this world. Can you promise me that?'_

 _Yes, I can._

His mind thinks further back on its own: ' _My father made him his aide-de-camp! That's—that's a lot of trust…'_

"If you wish to serve at my side, then you must give that up," The frowning general informs the young man in utter truth.

So, as any man would respond in this situation, also in utter truth, Ben forms his reply with a forced, resigned face. The young man is insulted by this general's attitude. But he tells himself, it must be his leg… It is his wounded leg causing him to be this way.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot give that up. I must look out for Washington needs, and as of now that position can't be filled, and it must be. I do know some eligible men for the _aide-de-camp_ —"

"Get out, I know who is eligible or not that is why I asked you in the first place, and the only one. Thank you for your time, _Major_."

"Yes sir."

On his way out, he hears Arnold add:

"It's good that Washington has you on his side. He needs good people in his line of trust."

 _Trust._

 _Trust…_

 _That word is the word of the decade. And the realization for Ben that he is indeed a man of blood._

 **A/N: And all my chapters are the big update of the week, lol. I'm glad to have got part 2 done so I can get onto writing Sealed Fate... *gulp* much sadness and violence in that one. Soooooo, Alexander and Lillian kissed, father daughter moment that needed to happen,** **Ben and Lillian moment in the candlelight alone in the barn (don't worry I have much more planned for them being alone), Benedict Arnold being a total ass clown- but at least he is still innocent at the moment.** **In the next chapter,** **we'll find out where Caleb is, because he has been off on his special mission for Sackett to retrieve the letter out of the King George bust. And Lillian will probably surprise everyone at what she does next chapter... Stay tuned!**

 **Thank you all for following,reviewing, and favoriting! It made me well up in happy tears that you all are fond of this fanfic/story. I hope you all enjoyed this one and will continue to enjoy as much as I enjoy planning and** **typing each and every chapter. Thanks! :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	24. Chapter 24: Sealed Fate

**Chapter 24: Sealed Fate**

 ** _On way to Valley Forge ~ 1777_**

 **Lillian's POV**

My mother sits next to my side inside a small, but suitable stagecoach due to the larger fancier one being left in Setauket at the end of last winter, and burned, because of my visit there. I do not mind what we are sitting in currently, as I am not the materialistic kind, but because winter is already upon us. We are sitting on wooden benches with a thin cushion rather than warm, plush upholstery. So my mother and I are pressed together sharing a blanket for warmth.

 _The first signs of snow are fluttering down outside like little, round, white tea cakes as the coach travels along painfully slow towards the new winter camp.._ I write.

"Painfully slow… and cold," my mother sighs with a little glint of humor in her eyes.

I smile for a second, "Painfully slow, and growing colder… just like this war."

She turns to me sorrowfully, "I know what you mean, my daughter. But, try not to say such things, especially not right now with the men walking around us."

"Yes mother."

She quickly laughs, watching my smile grow at what she says next, "Why not pretend you are speaking to Alexander?"

"Mother! That is not strange at all," I sarcastically comment as I play with the folds of an unopened letter from the man himself. "Besides, I can't pretend that with anyone. And I learned that I can't just say anything to him."

"My, what do you mean?" She questions. "Of course you can't just speak _anything_ with the man you just began courting… a month ago already? But even as a wife, friends or not you must conduct yourself properly and know your place. And I mean that in the best way possible." She adds lastly, interrupting me.

"Well, America seems to have our best interests at heart, maybe she will hear my wishes and grant them," I only say, leaving out what I wanted to say. _'How is that best?'_

"Perhaps," she replies. "You just don't know him well enough. George and I were the same from when we met up until our first year of marriage. It'll take time but you will both learn to be greater friends to be able to say anything to each other."

"We shouldn't have to learn to be greater friends, it should instantly happen. It's rare I know," I sigh, completely dropping it at my mother's sad look. She wants me happy, but as the war goes on and on, and I grow older 'by the month,' I may not find love on my own time. It's the way the world works.

But out of nowhere she says: "I'll never be close with you like you are with your father, Lilly."

I turn my face to hers but only to meet the dark hair on the back of her head, she is looking out the small window. _Make amends_ , my father says in my head. _Do not keep any more secrets between me and your mother._

"Maybe not. Because a mother and daughter relationship is like no other on this earth. Even if you're my stepmother, you're the truest mother I ever had," I swallow as I go to glance out my window, only saying that to let her think in our lengthy silence. "You know that. And I'm sorry I haven't been the best I should be, but I've been working on that lately."

Going into deeper thinking, almost a daydream, I feel her hand enclose around mine, and grip it lovingly. _It's a start._

"Lilly, did you hear me?"

"No, sorry."

"I asked if you'd like to read your love letter, which you may. I won't look over your shoulder."

I sigh with a giggle, "Well he told me to read it along the way, but I was going to open it later in front of him."

She slaps my shoulder lightly making me burst out laughing, "Do not! Do not do that to the poor man. He can barely keep his eyes on his men whenever you were walking outside back in Morristown."

My heart palpitates, and my laughing slows, "Really?"

Her face brightens as she continues speaking, and looks surprised that I haven't noticed this.

"Yes. Any blind man can see he has fallen hard for you, more than Albert Baker… that's a lot," she smiles, hugging me closer to her happily and keeping me warm when she saw me shudder.

"You're blushing very much, I didn't think you— you're burning up," her smile drops.

"I don't feel well mothe—" and my world went dark.

Soon, my eyes blinked back open, and my eyes adjusted as I caught my breath. Nothing but white clouded my vision until I could see my mother's face, Maria's, and Alexander's.

But we didn't stop moving, I felt the coach's wheels still rolling along on either side of the box compartment.

"Lillian," my mother says kneeling on the floor of the coach. I then recognized that I am lying across the bench, and I catch my breath.

"I fainted," my mouth says gawkily. My throat feels dry, and broken, but it was written as clear as day on their faces that they understood me.

"Like Patsy," my mother adds with tears trailing down her face.

 _No._

My mind can't function—it does not feel normal at this time—but I felt angered at those words.

"No. No one will be like Patsy, especially me. I'll diagnose myself as soon as I can—do not cry—" I then felt Alexander's extremely hot hand on my face and I turn to look up at his face looking down at mine with care and worry.

"Mrs. Washington," Maria speaks out, interrupting me seeing my struggle to speak because of my mind not forming my words right, and my mother crying from the whole thing in general. "She is probably catching a cold from the change in weather."

"I hope it is just that. I cannot—" she inhales loudly then exhales. "It won't happen. It won't happen. I'll think positive thoughts."

My left ear was listening to her and Maria calming her, and my right one listens to Alexander, because it is closer, after I ask him, "Why aren't you on your horse?"

"Miss Maria came and told me, so she and I quickly rode all the way back up here," he answers, saying each word expressively in his rich accented voice. "I had to make sure you were alright and I didn't have to rush you ahead to the camp for urgent medical attention—are you alright? Sip some water."

"Yes, I'll be fine," I say gaining my senses once more, fighting off the dizziness as I put my hands on the cup he presses gently to my lips. Doing so, my fingers touch his and I rub them ever so slightly causing him to smile endearingly. "Always, when you're around."

"I too," he presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling away, and helping me sit up straight once more.

"You may stay here, Lt. Hamilton. In case we need you if something else threatens to happen," my mother tells him.

"Of course Mrs. Washington."

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

Arriving at camp was alright, as I was awake and able to walk to the tent near my father's large one, but it didn't mean I was in good condition on the inside. Throwing up on what looked like to be the last patch of green grass that hasn't died yet to the winter weather made me feel even worse.

"I'll be better in a week if I rest properly, mother," I tell her at her growing nerves visible on her whole demeanor.

"Resting properly means to not leave the tent and tend to other sick people," my mother reminds me with such accusing words it aggravates my headache.

"Well we'll see how I do. We need our men strong, winter or not," I say adding a little more strength to my steps, breaking out of her arm hold.

Boots caught up to me, thudding on the thinning, permafrost soil, and I don't have to glance knowing it's Alexander.

"Are you sure you will be alright?" He asks once more.

"Yes I will," I smile in reassurance, pulling the thick cloak around my small frame tighter as I enter the tent, leaving him outside waiting for my mother to enter in behind me.

And this would be the last time today I saw the sun until midday tomorrow.

* * *

~ **3** **rd** **Person- Next day ~ December 1777 ~**

Men were everywhere, out and about from aimlessly walking before the harsh winter sets in, to the men with axes chopping up entire trees and logs for firewood all while singing a merry chant of George Washington: _Vain Britons boast no longer With proud indignity. By land your conquering legions Your matchless strength by sea. Since we, your sons incensed Our swords have girded on. Hey, huzzah, huzzah, huzzah, huzzah For war and Washington. Still deaf to mild entreaties Still blind to England's good-_

Far away from them, however, Lillian nears some men around a campfire who look like they've seen better days. Since she can't tend to the sick, she will boost their morale, just like her mother and other officer's wives, who came to visit, are doing.

Approaching them, they were talking amongst themselves in hushed murmuring, but when they noticed her, they silenced. One smiled thinly, with a bluecoat on and pants similar to Ben's, but only dirty from not being washed, and baggy. But his dark brown boots are noticeably polished as went to stand and remove his plumed helmet to bow.

She waved him to sit down, that it wasn't necessary, "How are you gentlemen doing? Other than growing cold of course."

They chuckle, but the other two men gave the impression they didn't want to speak. The one who smiled thinly at her answered her simply, "We're on break for the day, and not needed."

"On break? That's wonderful, even I'm not on break," she laughs with them.

"Not on break per say," a young man in dark clothes with beard stubble on his cheeks disagrees with what his companion had said. "Just had to sit somewhere until we are given orders otherwise. Why not keep warm while we're at it, and feign business like we're planning yeah?"

She smiles brightly at his voice of youthful humor. _So they are upbeat, only tired._

"That's one way to do it," she comments.

"It works, except with you. Did your father send you over here?"

"No. No one did, I came over here on my own. I wanted to make sure you have enough supplies and are alright overall."

All three of them smiled up at her from what she saw when smoke hit her vision and her head dropped to sneeze, but she never did. So the pressure from the failed sneeze stays in her nose.

"We're all good, as long as you have the brandy when we do fall ill," the civilian dressed man says with an officer's coat lying on the empty half of the small log next to him. "It's supposed to be a ghastly winter this time."

"I've heard. But I believe to have enough medicine for that time. I will try to order some more brandy since that is a popular use for you all, but for now it's to be used sparingly. "  
"Thank you Miss-"

"Sergeant!" A soldier runs up to the talking group with shock on his face. "You're needed to escort a prisoner. A bloody back crossed our lines."

Lillian's heart dropped, but she said nothing as she looked at the man in blue.

"I knew something like this would happen when we got here. Take me to him," the man mutters before leaving hurriedly with the other soldier.

"I'll take some of that brandy now, please," the beard-stubble man jokes arousing laughter from not only them both, but soldiers walking past them when they froze at the news the news bearer shared and heard the man's joke afterwards.

"Just keep up spirit and optimism, and spread the word. Then I'll see what I can do, but I can't keep no promises," she smiles at them, bowing her head as she walks away leaving the remaining two men in beaming smiles.

"Understood, Miss Washington. Thank you!"

Not even six feet away from them, a grinning voice out ' _Lil' Washington'_ from behind her causing her to jump like a cat in shock, then snapping her head around.

"About time I set my eyes on a beautiful lass."

"Caleb!" Her jaw drops as she removes her hands from the hood of her cloak to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in a tight hug when he sauntered closer.

"Oh it's good to know someone missed me. Wonderful seeing you again," he laughs, squeezing her tight for a second before clearing his throat and they both break the hug. "Those sorry blokes over there didn't even look my way."

She looks over in the direction he tipped his hat towards, "Probably because they are chopping firewood and singing jolly… again."

"It don't sound that jolly," he comments.

"No, because a redcoat crossed our lines moments earlier in the middle of it," Lillian informs him, but he looks unfazed by it.

"Ain't the first time. Are you alright? You don't look too well," he asks concerned making her heart skip a beat at his personality going from humor and all jokes to a concerned 'parent.' Or brother is probably the best term.

"I'm fine from that yes. I was over here talking to them when it happened," she nods towards the men she just left. "But I am slowly catching a cold I believe," she adjusts her cloak, catching chills from any slight breeze. "I-It's why my cheeks aren't so full of color at the moment."

"Well hold on to that for dear life, or go back inside," he points to her thick, furry cloak.

"No, I am getting as much exposure to outside as I can. I need fresh air before it gets colder. This may sound wrong, but these camps are an escape for me from daily life at home," she explains before letting out a small cough, catching some wind and smoke in her throat. "Even if I have to take care of sick and bleeding people."

"You're a saintly saint, _Princess._ And still something else that I can't put my finger on."

Lillian lets out a hearty laugh, "Thank you Caleb. And it won't be the last time I hear that last one. Now, your big 'secret' mission, how was it?"

"Don't get me started. Come with me to Sackett's little set up over there, and I'll tell the story once," he leads her to walk beside him side by side. "I better not get interrupted."

 _That doesn't sound too good_ she thinks.

 _"I am reminded of an old story in which a foolish youth spied a tree bearing low-hanging fruit_ ," Lillian hears and sees Mr. Sackett from a few feet away causing her to shut her eyes. _What is he going on about now?_

"That doesn't sound appropriate," Caleb remarks shaking with laughter. The woman beside him bites her lip and slaps his shoulder discreetly as soldiers walk past every minute, and some more men sit around small fire pits between every tent, allowing a lot of smoke to fuse together and blow gustily in the air like snow. Now making a mental note she'll have to check her medicine stock tonight at all the men, and all the white tents... There must be more than a hundred!

"There's something about you too that I can't put my finger on either," she mumbles to him.

Smirking, he winks, "Then we are some good spies, eh? Keeping our true selves hidden."

"Well, courier, and co-handler to be more exact…"

"Suck the fun right out of it why don't ye? _Don't ye know? Did you know Lillian, did you know?"_ The whaler sings a sea shanty, whistling loudly making her to giggle as they come to the entrance of the tent. _  
_" _Oh, how joyful shall I be When I get the money Huh? I will bring it all to thee Oh, my diddling honey."_

They enter the tent, and her eyes fall right onto Ben, who is currently looking at his loud, smirking friend a bit relieved, and irritated.  
"You're late," Ben says while Mr. Sackett huffs and mumbles _'more than late_.'  
Caleb's shoulder brushes past hanging spoons and dippers creating a wind chime sound, "Oh! Nice to see you, too. Tis why I say women are better greeters no matter what."

Ben's mouth forms a small smile as he hugs his friend, patting each other on the back and chest.

"Sir," Caleb holds out the letter which was inside the bust. "Your pirate returns with Blackbeard's treasure. Straight from the head of the king himself."

 _Maybe that's what he is, a pirate. Haha._ Lillian smirks to herself.

"Lillian," she looks up hearing Ben's voice, and their eyes meet once more.

She bows her head in friendly greeting, "Ben."

But they don't speak further, as they wait for Mr. Sackett's response. They watch the old man only look down at the 'pirate's' hands in dismay, and only ask, "Where's my drill?"

"Forget the drill!" Ben laughs out, not surprised the man would ask that. The young major has been shaking his head all morning at what has happened, and Sackett's words.  
"Just take the treasure Mr. Sackett," Lillian tells the man in glasses as she steps further into the tent and eyes the rich red wax seal of the king on the paper.

He snatches the papers out Caleb's hands while he looks at her, " _Now the serpent was more crafty than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made…"_ He turns to Ben, waving the papers _. "The serpent deceived me, and I ate."_

"I beg your pardon?" She asks breathlessly wide eyed, watching the man return to his seat and turn around to read it. "He just called me a serpent?"

"You're not a serpent," Ben reassures her with a sparkle in his blue eyes before turning back to Mr. Sackett, " _Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked. "_

"Shut up."

Ben merely rolls his eyes, "You could've not taken the papers."

"And you could've not tried sneaking a peek at my fruit of wisdom. Then we wouldn't be having this daffy confab."

"Hehe!" Caleb chuckles while Lillian just shakes her head and ignores everything else said all together. _Men communicate so strange_. "Knew that nose of y'ers would find its way into something it shouldn't be in."

Shoving the hatted man's shoulder in jest, Ben asks, "Where have you been? It was meant to be a simple retrieval."  
"Nothing simple about it, Tall-boy," Caleb's words grab her attention once more, so she turns around to listen to the exhausted man, and catching Ben was looking at her the entire time she was turned around and not paying attention. But when they make eye contact he looks back to his friend, and grabs a glass pitcher of coffee, and pours some into Caleb's cup. Steam rises up so quickly into the cold air, it makes Lillian feel lightheaded and like steam herself. If she takes off her cloak she'll dissipate into the drafty air. _I'll be sleeping good tonight._

"You see, first of all, I went back to Morristown, didn't I? Only to hear, ' _Sorry, sir, you know, the army's picked up and moved from this godforsaken pit to another godforsaken pit.' "_  
Mr. Sackett interrupts by shooting up from his writing desk and running past the two men conversing mumbling to himself.

"Mr. Sackett!" Lillian calls after the man immediately following him in the direction of the large tent of her father's.

"Jesus," Caleb starts, slamming his cup of coffee he barely got to drink down on the desk. "What's going on here?" And the two men soon catch up with the young Washington, walking alongside her.

* * *

"George!" Sackett burst through the tent flaps, and rushes over to His Excellency's side towards the back of the tent by his desk of course, and next to a rod ironed bed and a larger desk with maps strewn across it.

"It's alright, William," George tells his personal servant, who steps back to the large desk, scrubbing off spilled ink. "Is it from Culper?"

"Better!" The old man smiles, placing the two pieces of paper in front of him with the seal of the king.

Lillian, Ben, and Caleb enter soon after, and William straightens.

"We're all with him," Lillian smiles, pointing to Mr. Sackett. "Nice seeing you again, William."

Her father looks up at her and the familiar two men standing awfully close near her.

"This must be awfully important if we are all meeting together," George comments, almost speaking his mind, before beginning to read the letters, which he inhales a loud intake of breath. "It is better than Culper—much more detailed as I asked for. But…" he glances at the red seal and signature of the king of himself once more, trying to decipher it.

"Did you read it?" Lillian whispers to Caleb who shakes his head.

"No. I didn't get to finish my story. I was busy running for my life to be able to stop and read it."

"Can this possibly be genuine?" George asks Mr. Sackett in disbelief.

Sackett twiddles his fingers together, grinning ear to ear, "From one George to another."

As if that was all he needed to hear, Washington stands up abruptly and gains William's attention asking breathily, "William, please invite the gentleman from _Rodrigue Hortalez_ here immediately."

"Who the hell is " _Rodricky Whore-to-lez_ "?" Caleb asks Ben under his breath while Lillian tried her hardest not to laugh at what Caleb thought he heard her father say.

"It's not a man, it's a front for French secret intelligence," Ben answers just as quietly.  
"Right."

"Know it all," Lillian smiles at Ben who returns it in the same good nature.

"Had to learn it from _someone_." _Me_ , she thinks back to their barn meeting where they could continue talking normally with no worry on who hears. And as they maintain a longer eye contact, she can tell he was thinking back as well with a wistful glaze in his eyes.

"Me, obviously," Caleb's thumbs point to himself as all three of them turn back to Washington who returns to his seat, and beats his fist steadily on the table with a growing, overjoyed smile.

Back for the day in her and her mother's shared tent, Lillian bends over a bucket with one hand pulling back her hair, and the other on her stomach, dry-heaving.

A hand touched the small of her back, and turned to Alexander's worried face.

"I'm alright, I didn't vomit," she voices rather pleased.

"Well did you eat something?"

"No I'm not hungry. The medicine in the tea is working just enough," she says picking up the teacup near the bucket, and sipping from it slowly, letting its warmth soak into her throat and catch her breath.

"In the tea?"

"Yes, it is similar to a spoonful of sugar with medicine. It helps it to go down taste wise and for me at least it keeps it down."

"We'll see about that I suppose," he picks up a white towel and covers the top of the bucket modestly.

"No _we'll see_. I _know_ so, Alex," she giggles out as he wraps his arms around her tightly, laughing at her self-confidence too.

"What else do you know?"

"I know that you love me," she answers sweetly, and his hold on her tightens as he lowers his head down to kiss her, but she stops him. "I don't want you getting sick."

"That is probably wise," he instead kisses her warm forehead lingeringly, making her face heat even more so at the sensual move. Her stomach is even burning. Or, well, maybe the tea isn't working…

"I'll leave you be, as you rest until tonight. Your father wants you to visit him before you go to bed."

"Oh, thank you. That's right I didn't get to see much of him yesterday."

He nods his head and makes to leave, kissing her face once more but this time on her cheek, "I'll call on you whenever I'm able. I'm starting a new series of reports tonight."

"Alright," she smiles. "Goodnight, Alex."

"Goodnight, Lilly."

When nightfall was beginning to fall, she got herself ready to go next door to her father's tent by adjusting her corset from lying down, putting on her over robes, and a cloak above it all. Running her fingers through her let-down hair, believing it to be alright to not be dolled up too much for it's the end of the day, and she is ill.

Finally leaving her tent, she was greeted with the shining moon above the trees in the distance, giving the smoke in the fire pits all around a dreary translucent glow.

Then entering the other tent quickly from growing queasy at the musky smell of burning wood, her father just finished greeting an unfamiliar only men left, she recognized, were Mr. Sackett, Ben, and Caleb. _Is this a meeting?_ She thinks to herself.

The strange man, same age as her father but with natural dark, greying black hair in a neat interweave laughed at something her father said for but a brief moment.

 _Not even Alexander is here._

For some odd reason, this thought eased her. Perhaps because she wouldn't have to pretend to be well?

* * *

 **Lillian's POV- And Ben's thoughts**

In all smiles, my father looks over to me, and walks in my direction, taking my hand, and leading me towards the foreign looking man with French, taupe colored attire _. French_? I inwardly smile at the thought and predict what will occur at this interesting, and obviously serious meeting.

"Monsieur de Francy, may I introduce my daughter, Lillian. She has had her own hand in our acquisition efforts as well as a healing hand for your _marquis_."

The man's eyes shine with recognition, and responds generously with a thick, French accent, almost forcing English out of his lips, "Mademoiselle, et tis' an honour to meet you."

"Monsieur, the honor is all mine," I return his head bow ever so gracefully, careful to not dip my head too much to make my headache worsen. Mr. Sackett takes the opportunity to hand the letter over to the French man, who took it in good reception, but he kept the other in hand.

During this, I finally caught a good view of both Ben and Caleb at the end of the table, giving me discreet smiles.

Ben bowed his head to greet her, even though it wasn't necessary, even at this meet. He felt it right, and she deserves to be greeted respectfully. Her eyes blinked happily for the quickest moment, then glanced back to gauge the French man's reaction to the letter. Which he does as well, but he can't seem to force his eyes away from her sweet comeliness with her hair down, and adorning unelaborate clothes in a relaxed fashion making her appear not as tall as she is. He notes it is always the evening and night he has these thought of her going back all the way to the day he met her, and the beginning of spring when he was also securing her from Setauket.

"Ben, you listening?" Caleb whispers under his breath to him.

He only gives him an 'of course' look, finally looking towards His Excellency and Monsieur de Francy.

"The royal seal. You are convinced of its authenticity?" Monsieur de Francy asks my father.

"Monsieur de Francy, this was torn from the royal exchequer's balance ledger. In it is all the expenditures His Majesty is forced to make in order to sustain wars in India, the Caribbean, the high seas, and here in the colonies," he answers with his breathy, precise voice. "In short, sir, England is all but bankrupt."

 _They can't afford anymore war_! My optimistic side hastily tames itself as I look down at the table with a neutral face. I mustn't get my hopes up for not.

"How did it come into your possession?" the man inquires next, but Mr. Sackett answers this time.

"Through considerable effort, we were able to place a spy inside His Majesty's court."

My eyes widen at this, because my mind and heart just processed that this person put their life on the line… inside the king's court… and supports our nation… Someone had to have the guts to put the letter inside the king's bust and send it all the way over here to America.

"She was in the room when the king received this financial crisis."

 _She?!_ My mind rings, and I blink in bewilderment. Mr. Sackett hands me the letter he is holding to read its swirly contents. It's a letter from the woman explaining her position, and the intelligence quite detailed with ladylikeness similar to my own:

 _Sir,_

 _I was in the King's preference when he was presented with a ledger containing Britain's financial report by the exchequer of their impending crisis—_

I listen to Mr. Sackett as I read every word of the first of three paragraphs as if it was her last breath. She could've been caught and killed instantly! And if she was found out the king's men wouldn't hesitate to end her life.

"He did not take it well. And seizing opportunity, our agent took it upon herself to steal the most crucial piece of evidence."  
"This woman here?" Monsieur de Francy asks. I look up and see him and everyone looking at me. Caleb looks like he wants to comment but he shuts his mouth, knowing it's probably better to stay silent.

"No sir," I answer at the same time as Mr. Sackett.

"Oh no sir, this was an actual resident in England."

"How is it she was not immediately discovered by the king's men?"

Sackett sighs while sharing a look with my father, "They were indisposed. Apparently, the poor monarch is quite mad."  
"Do you have proof of that?" the taupe clothed man asks as I just fold the letter back up, not able to read the rest because of the talking.

My father replies, "Monsieur, you have asked for proof that we can win this fight. We have shown it on the field at Saratoga. Now we show it in cold, hard numbers. It is time to unite."

Taking it into consideration, and soon smiling convinced, the French man announces, "I will depart from camp at once and not rest until I see this into the hand of King Louis himself."

Sackett lets out a mirthful laugh along with me, and Ben goes to say something beaming as well, but Caleb steps closer to the table with maps, quills, and ink with a bothered frown.  
"Aw afraid I can't let you do that, de Frenchy."

Our entire chain of smiling drops and we all look at Caleb's grime covered face as if he's gone mad like the king. My father actually looks maddened while Monsieur de Francy looks at him questioningly. Of course Caleb wouldn't speak up for nothing though.

"It's Brewster, sir," Caleb clarifies after swallowing tensely. "Lieutenant."  
"I know who you are-" my father starts just when Mr. Sackett interrupts:  
"-Just not why you speak!"

I glance at Mr. Sackett, frowning more so because he practically spit those words at Caleb. This is a meeting about our espionage and uniting France after all. Caleb may know something we all don't that'll affect this.

While Ben looks at him expectantly like the rest of us, Caleb continues on a more grave note, "Sir, King George, he knows his ledger's been stolen, right? He's dispatched Robert Rogers to retrieve it."

..

.

"Rogers?" I squeak out under my breath. My whole body fell numb. And my nerves stretched like a thin sewing thread while my blood began a familiar boiling once more at that name. I also feel a bit lightheaded, and overly warm.

"Yeah," Caleb looks at me sparingly and turning back to my father, because he is addressing him. "And he has orders, sir, not to let that reach France. He's been on my trail since Jersey and he's out there now just waiting for us to make our move."

Great, everyone is following us, even that redcoat that joined us just this morning and is being held prisoner until otherwise.

I hold my tongue back from speaking up, because I really shouldn't speak so boldly about matters such as these, personal ones, especially in front of Monsieur de Francy who has apparently stood before King Louis many times before.  
"Well, we make a duplicate. We'll send a hundred copies all at once," I hear Ben offer off the bat while I moved away from the table to face the canvas of the tent, and look at something to do with my father—my current father, to keep me calm.  
"No, no, no. I cannot go back to France with a forgery. This seal must reach Versailles," Monsieur de Francy explains with a lengthy and thoughtful sigh.

"Is this Rogers truly so dangerous?" _Yes._

"Yes. Yes, he is," I hear my father breathe out. The hint of pain in his answer didn't escape me, nor his footsteps coming up behind me. It took every ounce of me to not collapse into him and cry. _I'm stronger than this._  
"Are you alright?" he whispers down to me.

Looking up at him I was surprised his eyes weren't on the maps in front of us, but actually making eye contact with me making sure I was indeed alright.

"No, sir," I honestly reply.

"I know."

Conversation goes on behind us as we both look down at the map and ponder, my father more so since he truly knows what he is looking at.

"We will both get our revenge, somehow. And you can be sensible while doing it," he whispers promisingly. "You have me."

Wanting to cry at those words, I manage a smile up at my tall father, and he returns it fondly.

"Now what do we have here," he looks back down as he eyes a path, and points to it, showing me where it leads silently for me to figure out, testing my knowledge.

"A big diversion," I smile.

"Exactly."

I turn back around to hear what they're talking about just when the monsieur asks another question.

"Surely this man cannot overrun a full cavalry?"

Ben actually eye rolls in front of him, shaking his head. _Yes, the horrible man can overrun a full cavalry. Poor Ben… He lost more than I ever did. And not once have I seen, heard, or watched his eyes fill with tears and cry. Men are strange in those ways too._

"Rogers is a hunter," my father speaks up, rushing back over to the table to show and tell his plan, silencing everyone in debate on what to think and how to act.  
"We must throw him off our scent. We'll send the cavalry out in force, then split the detachment in two.  
One will head to Portsmouth, the other to Baltimore."

"He won't know which has the treasure," Caleb grins at the plan while Ben ponders and shakes his head in disagreement.

"No, he'll just split his men in two and track them both-"

"-Yes, and while he's doing that, he will be unaware that a third party had already left camp tonight," my father interrupts countering Ben's words. "A single plainclothes fur trader accompanied by one of our more trusted native scouts. He'll travel off trail to Port Charlestown and from there to France to secure the future of this great nation."

The momentum of his words made even the French intelligent analyst smile in absolute love for the country—the soon to be free nation.

"Long live the United States of America," the man remarks.  
" _Et vive la France_ ," my father responds. _My incredible father._

* * *

At the touching of someone's hands on my body shaking me gently awake, I sit up the opposite of expected: frightened with a little yelp.

"It's ok, I'm sorry to wake you at this hour," Maria looks down at me apologetically, only seeing her dark blue headwrap appearing a dark green in the one candlelight I have next to my cot.

I take a moment for my eyes to adjust; following my slurry reply, "What is it?"

"Benjamin Tallmadge is here to speak with you, urgently."

Coughing after my nervous intake of breath I nod my head fast, "Send him in."

"But your-"

"I'll throw on a robe, my nightgown is decent enough for urgent news."  
Maria nods her head, and hurries towards the entrance to let Benjamin inside out the cold.

While she was speaking to him, I threw on my white woolen over robe and tied the thin belt around my waist by the time he walked in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt… Miss Washington," Ben uses formality when he eyes Maria standing near him.

"You can go to your tent now, Maria. I'll call on you again when we're done," I tell her to which she conforms, leaving Ben and I alone. "This day won't end for nothing can it? We just had a meeting, what urgent news?"

He steps closer to my area near the candlelight to gain some warmth back, then I can see his face clearer, "Lilly it's about your father."

"If this is about trying to get you on his good side, I already did my part. He should be acting better towards you—"

"Well, he's not. And that's not why I'm here."

"No need to have a tone with me Ben, I apologize for mine I just woke up."

"You're getting sleep at least. I'm still hustling about while interrogating our new prisoner," he pauses as his hands cramp, and asks to place his helmet down, so I gesture to a chair.

"Sit."

After he sits at my vanity, also known as my writing desk, I sit down on my bed, waiting for him to continue.

"See, the redcoat warned me a civilian he abandoned in the woods for escort would come here making some wild claim to gain our trust to be able to spy for the king. That he will sound very convincing, but this man is not to be trusted. This was what Mr. Sackett and I were talking about earlier this morning."

"Go on."

"The redcoat gave me the civilian's name, Bill Shanks. And this man arrived an hour prior to this talk you and I are having now, demanding your father's audience to relay urgent news."

"What urgent news?" I look at him casting his eyes downward, face tilting up in uneasiness.

"Someone in this camp is assigned to assassinate your father before the New Year."

Shaking my head, I stand up silently, but utter shock fills my chest as I gather my shoes and cloak.

"Wh—What are you-"

"Is what you say legitimate?" I ask him as I throw on my cloak, raising my hand behind my neck to lift my hair up to tuck into the hood.

"Yes," he stands up abruptly at me walking past him. "Where do you think you're going? You have no need to freeze out there."

"Take me to Bill Shanks, now," I order him, which causes him to blink, registering my authoritative tone he hasn't heard for some time. Mainly towards him.

"No," he shakes his head in disapproval. "Lillian do you not see what I'm saying?"

"No Ben I don't see what you're saying because there's nothing to see. I'm listening—"

"Quit being sarcastic and witty only Caleb is good for that."

I guffaw, letting out a small yawn, remembering I was woken up in the middle of the night where I get my most sleep, "Oh I'm Caleb now? That explains a lot then."

He silences me, placing his index finger over my lips, actually grazing them initiating a shiver which runs through me like a baby touching hot water in the bathtub for the first time, "You're not him. Let's not let it escalate further then it needs to. I didn't mean it like that."

Swallowing at his hardened face, I listen to him to explain.

"I'm worried you were discovered, and they placed someone here to assassinate you. That's one of my beliefs, that Shanks is only saying someone is here to kill your father, but he and the redcoat, Sutherland, is trying to blind us."

I narrow my eyes, "Why not you? It can be any one of us. Caleb even since he is everywhere—where is he anyway? You're each other's shadow."

"He's a part of the diversion remember? He set out tonight to Boston," Ben licks his dry lips, biting the corner of them in worry.

Gasping, I tap him on the chest, "I didn't know that'd take place tonight!"

"You must've been coughing, sneezing, or in the middle of a yawn when we were talking then."

"Well, I had my rest, now take me—"

"No! Lilly I just said—"

"He is a prisoner, he can't harm me! Let's just go interrogate him I'll tell you what to ask him for me-"

"No not now, you need more rest," in the process of this he grabbed my upper right arm, and spun me back around to face him. "I need you to feel better again."

I defensively answer, hiding any weakness on my visible features, even standing firmer, "I do."

"Then I need you to return back to your real self again. A full night of sleep will have you thinking thoroughly once more. I will keep you and your family safe by all costs. I came by to inform you because you have a right to know, not just your father. He told me he wasn't going to tell you so you wouldn't worry."

I let out a little laugh, "Biggest lie in mankind. You're my friend, of course you'd tell me everything even if that's risking my father's temper that I'll have to simmer down every time."

Taking my left hand gently, all breath inside me fills my chest, and I feel a warm blush beginning to permeate my sharp cheekbones at our close proximity.

"I always will," he smiles, walking me back to my bed, and sitting me down, watching me for some time to make sure I wouldn't move. "And I know you always will too."

"Keep me updated frequently, even if you have to wake me up again."

"I'll come get you in the morning, and you can be with me as I interrogate. With Derik nearby of course," he adds the last sentence with a clear of his throat.

"The crack of dawn," I say.

"First light," he replies, blue eyes glistening with vigor and promise before leaving me in my tent.

I was alone for only a minute when Maria came back in, gaining my curiosity.

"I thought I said I'd call for you. Were you listening to us?"

"No. He came and got me himself, made sure I came back inside safely to watch over you tonight."

There's that flutter again, and breath filling me up so much it's leaving me gasping for air. I gesture for Maria to hand me the water pitcher.

 _Are friends, good friends, able to make you feel this way? Because I do not recall Baker causing me to act this way so intensely._

But on a more serious note, who would be here to kill my father?

..

Exactly.

Rogers.

 _Robert Rogers must be in this camp._

 _If it is him, he will die._

"Lillian?" Maria frowns at my distressed face.

"Have a weapon beside you tonight. Just in case."

* * *

 **Benjamin Tallmadge's POV**

 _Focus Tallmadge!_ I gripe at myself as I leave Lillian's tent in a brisk walk towards her father's tent next door to relay the more detailed information that he can actually work with.

But I couldn't help but think about what I have done, and was close to doing _. I just walked her to her bed!_ Watching her eyes slowly wake up and gain their sparkle once more as we greeted stirred my very core and reminded me of my cause for being here even more so. I'm fighting for everyone and her. I consider her closer than a friend, I admit. Family.

 _My mother. My poor late mother._ She reminds me of my mother in the small ways such as in her mannerisms, and sweet, neutral face looking at me with all her attention and dare I say, care. Care as any true friend would, male or female.

However, it'd be strange if I did completely compare her to my mother because then I wouldn't have any fancy towards her…

 _Hell, I'd still fancy her._

And so does Caleb. He does have a wandering eye, but I've watched him. When it comes to her, he betters himself like an actual gentleman. Not that he isn't, but how he acts upon his morals are different than I. I wouldn't be surprised if he decided to blurt out one day, with a cup of rum in hand, that he 'loves' her.

But he loves her in a brotherly fashion, just as I…

Do I?

Do we?

I don't even know what love is, neither does Caleb. Real love. We see it, we received it from our family, but with a stranger? That's hard to come by.

"Sir," I enter Washington's tent with an exhale, greeted by warmer air hitting my face.

"What news of the prisoner?"

"Shanks described Andre and he's willing to give us more names. Sir, I'm more sure of a man driven by greed - than I am of one – So clearly spouting recited motivations. "

"Shanks.." Washington whispers thoughtfully under his breath as he picks up a quill and writes down his name I presume.  
Shooting back up straight from bending over to write, the man looks down at me firmly with a stout voice, "And what is the motivation of this fusilier? Billy?"

My index finger and thumb meet to emphasis my words as I reply mirroring his facial expression, "Well, sir, if Andre suspected that Shanks overheard his plot, he'd send Sutherland ahead to discredit the man.  
To make his warning sound suspect, desperate even."

 _Silence._

His dark skinned servant, William, also called Billy, handed him a stack of three or so papers and began skimming over what was written on it. More important than what I said, perhaps? _Heaven forbid._

At a loss of words I glance back at Mr. Sackett whose eyes never left Washington's form, but shrugs having seen my little exasperation.  
"So that is your conclusion? To condemn Sutherland and reward Shanks?"

There it is again. Washington's all knowing tone, questioning me, believing I'm wrong!

Answering with assurance, I say, "With more time, I could-"

"Let's see if more time is necessary," I watch Washington walk out, quickly past me before my eyes.

"Sir." _Let me finish…_

Following Washington into the small log accommodation where Bill Shanks is residing in temporarily until proven innocent or guilty, I shut the door behind me, and take my place near the door with Mr. Sackett, watching the exchange unfold.

So far, Mr. Shanks has saluted my Commander with respect.

Taking off his hat, and sitting down before the man, Washington begins what looks and sounds like a kinder interrogation, "Sir You wished to speak with me?"

"Your Excellency, your person is in mortal danger. And I came as quick as I could to warn you," Shanks responds after clearing his throat with a cough, sounding like he was holding most of it back in attempts to make himself more decent.  
"What is your full name?"

"Wilcox Shanks, sir."  
"Your _full_ name, please," Washington corrects, unexpectedly to Mr. Sackett and I.  
Bill shanks looks over at us a bit nervous as if we had something to do with it or was about to use the lying detector on him again, then answers not wanting to seem suspicious, "Bartholomew Wilcox Shanks."

"In truth, Mr. Shanks, you were at a disadvantage the moment you arrived."

"Sir?"

"This is not the first time a man has appeared out of the night to offer his services to me.  
And I learned then that knowing one's reasons is as necessary as knowing the lies he's willing to sell.  
Three months ago, we suffered a loss severe enough to be given an epithet the Paoli Massacre," Washington exhales, glancing back at me for but a moment before he continues.

"Born at the hands of a British adjutant, a Major John Andre. So heavy were the losses that I reviewed the order of battle for the names of the dead and the captured and missing," Washington hands me the papers he's been holding and read just recently.

Internally sighing, I read the list of names of missing, and Bill Shanks—Bartholomew Wilcox Shanks is listed. Hearing Sackett's silent intake of breath seemingly impressed at the Commander's own investigating. _Maybe I could've done better…_

"One name stuck out," Washington finishes, condemningly. Uncaring of the man standing before him trying to control himself form bursting into tears. "A Pennsylvania 10th man who'd just been cited for court-martial for stealing an officer's boots. Clearly he had deserted during battle and then defected to the enemy."

 _This is not Washington._

Heart breaking at the man beginning to sob, I hurry and follow Washington out the cabin and into the cold night to stop him, "Wait, sir. Sir, he may have been one of ours, but his motive could be absolution, not vengeance."

"Major," he mumbles.

"Sir, please!" I raise my tone to a level of fatigue and frustration—from being tired of not being listened to—I even touch his arm to turn him to me.

 _Lillian, I'm just trying to explain to your father. Calm me down._

"Please, sir, hear me. Just because his biography was false does not mean that his story is also," I speak softer, thinking of her soft face and hands. Maybe I'll get through to him thinking this. I'm sure Lillian sounds like this when she is trying to be listened to.

But… I'm wrong.

"Tallmadge, your judgment in this matter is indicative of your judgment these last several months. You are blinded when I need you able to see," he admits with his distinct, breathy voice, narrowing his incriminating eyes down at me.

"I- I don't believe that I'm wrong, sir," I answer honestly, feeling my eyes sting. Not from tears, but the cold, and tiredness. _Tired of this._

"Yes, and that is the problem," Washington looks me down, then dismissing me entirely as he turns to Sackett behind him, leaving me at an official loss of words. He's done with me is what it sounds like!

 _Sir…_

"Mr. Sackett."

"Sir."

"You will debrief Sutherland."

 _I'm sorry Lillian, but we won't get to interrogate in the morning… as I promised._

Shaking my head, huffing, inhaling, and exhaling cold air into my burning lungs and drained throat, I don't know how long I was standing there until I made my way back to my tent for the night, not able or bring myself to pray for a better day tomorrow.

"What's wrong with me? I'm wrong…" I talk to myself, laid back on my cot with all my limbs dangling off the sides. "I'm always wrong."

My mind's wheels turn even more, thinking myself out of stress. It's what I've always done. Personal matters as these I try not communicating to anyone- but since the day I became a part of this cause, I've been venting left and right. _I need to fix that. Yes, make a list of things to fix._

But... _everything I do is good and right._

Her words haunt me, and so do her father's.

Then I find myself starting to lean towards the more reasoned words, and settle with that conclusion as I let sleep take me in welcoming.

 **A/N: 'Rush, rush, stress, stress!' *brownie points for whoever know where that reference is from!* But I didn't rush, I took my time on this longggg chapter that I thought would never end. Instead of two parts, I decided to just tie in the rest of "Sealed Fate" with "Houses Divided." So the next chapter may or may not start off sad... for those who have watched the ending of Sealed Fate. What did you all think? How about Ben's POV? it's alright for the first time I suppose, and it maybe the last time I do that- since this story is supposed to be from Lillian's eyes as in my summary. My fingers had to type something different, so it was worth a shot. I didn't feel in my element for this chapter, but now I'm feeling back to normal. There was a lot of plot points to digest.**

 **Caleb is back! Lillian is forcing herself better and paranoid about Robert Rogers now... But who isn't?**

 **Andddddd, did Bennyboy actually admit he 'fancies' her? YES. BUT, he does not know what these feelings are and doesn't necessarily call it love.. and when he does find out next chapter, which will be Ben and Lilly fluff with thick storyline, will he hold these feelings back? Will he get looser fitting pants? (haha, sorry. It is a major question... 'Major' hehe, because he's a major.) I'm up late typing this, forgive me.**

 **With how he has been acting lately in Washington's eyes, will he become less 'blind?' That's the major question.**

 **Find out next! Stay tuned! :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	25. Chapter 25: Houses and Thoughts Divided

**Chapter 25: Houses and Thoughts Divided**

The creak of the wooden poles and beam being pushed up by men in the middle of camp gives Benjamin the chills every time he even hears it. Seeing it makes him want to choke out his heart, and throw it into a dark hole. It is not in his control who lives or dies, and _how_.

The fifer is singing its fife in the background, to perk up younger soldiers and lift their spirits, but it only means 'Lies. Deceit. And Battle.' to Ben. For the oddest reason to him, the fife and the similar flute always seemed to be an unpleasant instrument to him. Merely a silver stick or wooden, held up to one's mouth horizontal, the tune makes his ears burn and nerves cringe. He only heard a flute play once in Setauket for one Yuletide, but it was a sad peasant playing it in the cold snow. The next morning, he remembered, his father going to the church for a funeral procession.

The fife he was introduced to during battle. The fife sounded signals during changes in formation, and was played by the military band during long periods of marching.

Shaking his head in attempts to block the awful shrill sound feigning cheeriness, he walks past Lillian's tent in guilt, for not being able to bring her to interrogate Shanks early this morning as he promised, but plans changed. He needs her safe, and Mr. Sackett is debriefing Sutherland at this time, and was told to return later to escort the prisoner back to his cabin. Until then, he is sticking to what he believes, and is now rushing over to Bill Shanks' cabin to question him one last time before the man is hanged tomorrow.

Flinging the door wide open, his hand taut on the side of the door to swing it back shut behind him with his palm after he stepped inside the cabin with also a taut, stern face.

Bill Shanks remains kneeling on the ground, begging in dread to the major marching up to him, "If I'd taken those boots, I would've lost my feet."  
Not playing diffident no longer, fed up with what has been happening to him lately, Ben yanks Shanks upwards by the collar to bring him to an eye level stand, "Yes and if you'd told me the truth then you wouldn't be _hanged_ tomorrow. Now listen to me. I'm going to give you one more chance. Is there truly a threat on Washington's life?"

"Yes!"

"Then give me something!" Ben yells at him, shaking him once violently, ignoring the man's pathetic whimpering and nervous breaths.

"Who's the assassin? How are they gonna get him into the camp?"

"The-They-They just said sometime before the new year," Shanks answers after shutting his eyes tightly trying to recall anything. Benjamin, not taking any more shite, throws the man to the side, not noticing the thick barrels were there during his process of turning around to think, almost walking out the door with a stressed yell before the man adds, "Andre and his man Gamble."

"Wait. Wait, describe him to me."

"Andre? I did."

"No, No! Gamble!" Ben barks, jaw clenched and face red. "Gamble. Describe Gamble."

"Uh, he had kind of a scar on his cheek from fencing or from from-"

That was all Ben had to hear. _Everything connected._

So he ran out the door muttering 'no's' and sprinted towards Mr. Sackett's tent where Sutherland- _Gamble-_ is with said scar on his cheek.

Clutching the sword at his left side, cutting through even the thin gaps between tents, snow flurries floating down dreamily and eerie because there is mostly blue skies above.  
"Sackett! Mr. Sackett!" Ben flings the tent flap open with both hands, seeing no one but papers tossed everywhere until he casts his eyes down… Feeling himself about to actually choke his own heart out, no flute needed at the sight of Mr. Sackett sprawled out on the ground, still conscious, but face first, in his own pool of dark blood flowing from his head.

"Oh, God, no, no! No! No, Mr. Sackett!" Ben yells, falling to his knees and hurrying to pull the man up by the shoulder, to get some oxygen in him and keep him awake. But blood spills out the old man's mouth, his eyes bulging out his head in shock hearing the familiar voice, but his eyes droop while Ben put his hand under his mouth trying to catch whatever blood he can to conserve it in attempts to keep him alive. _Lillian he needs Lillian._

Pulling him up though, his eyes scanned for anything- and just as he thought. The poor old man was stabbed in the throat.

"Lillian! Guard, help! Help! Someone help! Mr. Sackett, no," Ben put the man down, and got up quickly and ran around in circles looking for any cloth to stop the blood from spilling out. The papers with all their information about the ring, intelligence, and reports splattered with crimson which still drips down onto the earth, table, or other documents. Sackett must've put up a big fight with the man, fighting for his life while attempting to keep secret documents safe.

Finally snatching a discarded handkerchief, he runs back over to the man and falls down above him, a leg on either side in panic, pushing the cloth to his throat. _Keep the patient in movement and a tight hold on the evident wound,_ Ben remembers from her essay he translated to Latin. _Firm hold on throats, eye area, thighs, and chest._

"No, please. It's all right. It's all right. Don't-don't go," Ben looks down at Mr. Sackett who has his eyes open once more, choking, sounding almost he's trying to speak but his lungs are drowning in his blood.

Ben also fiddles with his coat to fish out the essay that is useful for this point in time.  
"Get the doctor!" he shouts just when two guards walk in and take in the scene in shock, frozen in place.

But Ben didn't notice as he was soothing the old man, looking beneath him because he is hovering above the old man, "I'm here. It's all right. It's all right. Please don't go. Please stay with me. Get the doctor now! Doctor! Oh, God. Please don't go-"

A familiar voice, finally, he hears. Lillian's shriek of fright fills the tent when she pushed the tent flap up and was greeted by a sight she never dreamed of seeing.

Ben snaps his neck to turn to the healing woman, "Lilly!"

"No! No!" She cries, but not crying, yet, as she rushes next to Ben and Mr. Sackett, discarding her cloak and collapses on the ground and places her bare hand against his throat to lessen the blood, and tighten the nerves and muscle as well. Ben's hand atop hers adding to her strength and the pressure is helping, hearing some inhales from the old man through his nose. Her other hand went to the pulse behind his ear to keep count on his blood density.

"Stay with us! We need you!" She pleads the man, whose eyes are rolling in his sockets, choking out blood onto her dress. "I need you don't leave me! Your mind should feel blurry right now, don't let it. Think calm. We need to have our noon tea and talk as we discussed."

"Can you do something other than calming him?" Ben asks her pleadingly.

"I am! I'm stopping the blood—I can't do anything—" she grabs Mr. Sackett's face, tilting it up with Ben's help.

"I don't have my tools with me. Even if I did, they are no use, a doctor needs to be here. It's too severe anyways."  
"No, no," Ben shakes his head, tears streaming down his face losing grip of the man's body meaning Mr. Sackett has lost too much blood, and can't withstand any more effort to stay alive.

"Keep his back straight don't give up yet! Doctor, now!" Lillian shouts to Ben, who doesn't climb off of the man, but he does shift the man, and even rubs his back.  
"Please, Nathaniel. Don't go," Ben gags out a sob, eyes stinging with tears, waiting for Lillian to find anything in his throat.

"No knife,- there's so much blood. His throat is all torn up on the inside-" Lillian breaks into a sob.

"Is there anything for that! Stitch it-" Ben pleads to her, not meaning to almost order her to do it, but at this moment, Mr. Sackett grows lifeless.

"No!" Both Lillian and Benjamin cry out, sobbing deafeningly.

She looks away, clutching her stomach rocking back and forth on her knees while Ben still holds onto the man's pale face, and sightless eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Ben repeats every breath he takes as he lays his head atop Mr. Sackett's.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

A hand on his shoulder, a much needed and comforting hand squeezes his right shoulder, and he looks up shamelessly into Lillian's same sorrowful, bloodshot, tear-stained eyes.

Seeing every ounce of hope for Mr. Sackett's survival leave Ben's flooded blue eyes, Lillian couldn't take it no more and found herself throwing herself onto the Major and hugging him tightly, which his bloody hands left Sackett's face and grabbed her around her already stained, satin waist tightly, hugging her close, continuing to sob with her.

"Breathe, breathe, we need to stop-" Lillian swallows salty saliva and attempts to control her breathing and tears.

"Your father is the one who needs to stop! He needs to stop assuming and knowing he is right all the time when he isn't. Head of intelligence deserves more trust than that. If he just listened to me! This debriefing wouldn't have happened! It could've.." He paused, reality hitting him in the chest for one last blow. "It should've been me debriefing him. If only I didn't defy your father-"

"Don't you dare say that!" Lillian scolds him, rubbing away her tears with hands with blood half-wiped off. "We need you of all people—Mr. Sackett said so himself. We have you, thank God. I have you Ben."

She hugs him once more, and finally he calms down, her words stirring his own blood and has picked up his already pre-shattered heart and shoved it back down is throat to where it belongs, somehow in one piece despite.

"And this isn't about trust," she adds in her shaken, soft voice. "He trusts you just as I do."

 _It could've been her_ … Is all he could think. He didn't argue back. But he did not dare let that fall from his lips or cross his mind any further than it already did.

"We couldn't have saved him Ben."

"You could've done something else, with your tools you didn't have of all times—"

"And do what? They would've only cut his throat open further. Losing that much blood profusely is like bloodletting a regular ill person. What's the point?" A paper caught her eye, tossed to the side and bent out of shape. It's in Latin, but she can only read the title and a couple words in every paragraph or so.

"That's why I sat down, in my bed surrounded by notes and tests, and began writing my theory of bloodletting. He actually did find a copy of it and read it. He was such an intelligent man."

Ben wipes his face, but standing up first shakily and taking his neck tie off to wipe his bloody hands.

Clearing his throat he corrects her, "Actually that was my copy. I pulled it out the moment I saw this. The original Latin version I translated in fact."

Swallowing she looks up at him, vision fuzzy with hot tears, "You followed protocol well. Good thing you got here when you did. We tried to save him this long."

"There has to be a way to save someone with a slit throat, still choking for survival. My mind instantly thinks no, especially on the field, but being in a doctor's or nurses care… You have me pondering now."

"There's nothing to fix a throat," she chokes on some leftover sobs, ceasing crying, but tears keep falling down her face. "But I wish there was."

Seeing movement in the corner of her eye, she looks at Ben holding her cloak out down to her. The tent flaps are being opened by guards, snow flurries blowing in, many melting into the blood rapidly, and the doctor is just now rushing in.

"Use it for him. Cover him with it after their done… examining."

Handing him back her essay, his copy, she leaves the tent with arms folded across her front, walking unblinkingly back to her tent to change clothes.

* * *

"Please, please don't let us be done. We have to win this fight," Lillian prayed after Mr. Sackett's funeral procession that night. "Watch over our ring, each and every one of us. And every soldier, I pray they stay strong, survive, and find some happiness."

 _'You were never the target, sir. We were. Gamble stole vital documents, some of them containing the name Samuel Culper.'_  
Benjamin's words replayed in Lillian's mind every day since. _"-To blind you, sir. If you had let me do my job."_

* * *

 _Just be yourself. Just be yourself. Can't. Yes._

"Maria, why am I courting him again?" Lillian asks her friend, who is being her handmaiden at the moment, placing a simple feather headpiece on the side of her updo.

"Because you love him, obviously," she points out. "Or… you hold feelings for another and pretending that man is in Alexander's place. Who?"

Her eyes snap up to her face in disbelief, pushing Maria's hand away from her hair, "What? No there is no one else. Even if there was I'd never do that! I've just been not feeling as comfortable with him as I was at the ball this past summer."

Sighing, Lillian looks at her reflection in the mirror, astonished that she looks this… way. Like every other stylish upper class woman in this century, which is a good thing and she is all for fashion when it looks well, but dressing up for a man? A man she may be destined to marry? Why doll up so much every single time? Alexander hasn't even seen her in her simplest, laid-back form and attire. And truthfully, once she enters her home—excluding this past year where her mother made her—voluptuous gowns are all she wears. Then she thinks of her mother, she wears fancy gowns every day… _Oh dear._

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean _what do I mean_? I'm just not me with him and I don't like it! I sometimes wish there were someone else."

Maria shushes her, "No need to get worked up. Look, I know you are a strong lady compared to many other… weak women." Lillian narrows her eyes at her dark toned friend. "But I know your sweet side, your 'weaker' side. You know what I mean, I mean it in the best way possible—"

The young Washington stands from her vanity chair and gets in her friends face, almost nose to nose, "How dare you call me weak, and women you don't even know that you compare and contrast me with weak!"

"Ma'am I'm sorry!"

Lillian blinks, feeling ashamed for have lost her temper so quickly which isn't in her character at all. The cold she had lasted two weeks, but the major symptoms such as vomit, and high fever went away after a week. It lasted this long because she didn't take her own advice and her parent's to stay inside. Instead, she was out and about not tending to sick people, but speaking to them, and visiting with Ben and Caleb when she could… which was barely even once a week.

See, her father placed the order back in session that she wasn't to be near Benjamin Tallmadge. This had her in an angered fit as well, going as far to exclaiming ' _How are we supposed to get business done! We need to communicate! Why won't you lighten up with him!"_

His only response was, " _Lillian, I adore your charm in seeing the good in others, but as long as you are within my sight, in my range, and in this camp, you may not see him. I have found myself not holding as much trust in him as I once did. I already told you how he ambushed me to listen to him."_

 _So it was about trust._

 _"He was trying to make a good point! And that doesn't sound too familiar at all. Doesn't it? He was deemed head of intelligence for a reason, and there was a reason he never left your side when Benedict Arnold asked him to be his aide-de-camp. Don't make the same mistake as you did prior to Mr. Sackett's untimely death."_

 _"Do not speak back to me so brashly."_

"No I'm sorry Maria. Forgive me," Lillian encloses her into a needed hug, which she returns, but not as needy. "It's alright Lilly. Look at me," she tilts her face up to hers, and when her eyes meet hers is Lillian only reminded how much older she has got in just a year. Stress, worry, and anxiety can do that to one.

"You are beautiful, and smart. You know when to look pretty, and you know when to crack that whip of wisdom you have," she smiles at the young Washington, who is changing before her eyes into a greater lady not as youthful in appearance and ways as she once was.

"I sure do," Lillian snickers. "But not with Alexander. I can't say all that is on my mind with him and in my mouth to say. I have conversation with him yes, and intelligent ones at many times… But it's basic, astonishingly. It's not what I consider to be my valued words spilling from my lips. Sometimes I'm all giggles and goo-goo eyes, but times I just want to tell him to be quiet so I can have a chance to speak regularly but I can't do that. Not since the ball."

Maria swallows, questioning, "Why can't you?"

"It's most of the time around other people, and it would make him look bad, and I too. And it hurts even more when it is just us. It's serious every time, and all about time. He believes in a utopian world that only speaks intellectually every single moment."

Both women feeling a pang hit their chest, the bigger one hitting Lillian's because she finally was able to form her words and admit this to someone she trusts.

"What a paradise that'd be, but it's not reality. It'll all be well, don't you worry darling. You will make it right. Til' then I'll be praying for you. I'm here for you too," Maria bows down her head, and leaves the young woman in the tent alone to herself for space, and because another servant called for her aid elsewhere.

"What is right anymore? Help me, please, God. In the name of the Holy Spirit, please lead me to where I need to be, Amen," Lillian cries in a hushed prayer. "Give me strength to not cry. And give me Patsy back, please. And Mr. Sackett. I was me when I was with them."

* * *

The temperature has dropped even more so in the late November, now officially the winter season. Snow does not fall evenly throughout the day, but it does snow at least once a day, but lightly, and leaving splotches of it on the earth like dropped face powder. No scent but mildewed water, and dirt if there is a scent for it. Potent.

"Derik!" Lillian steps out her tent and calls out to the servant tending to some weary cold horses nearby. He has been her main escort in every winter camp outing. One of her father's personal guardsmen, and also a correspondence secretary such as writing the genera's words, Joseph, is rarely an escort for her as well. He is there when Derik is not available, Maria, or Alexander Hamilton. A quiet man, blushing like a tomato just listening to her ask 'how have you been?' and is always unprepared for moving about camp, so he is buttoning his coat every time.

"I'll be there soon Miss Washington!" Derik responds.

But so quickly her attention was diverted from her escort to Benjamin walking towards her, who she hasn't seen in days. He wears his same, regulated uniform: blue coat, polished dark brown boots, yellow pants that are considerably tight on him and she has yet to point that out to him… but that is inappropriate, not her place to say, and she forgets. To tell him of course, definitely not forgetting how much the fabric clings to his athletic, lean legs.

Her eyes were on his face, though. The entire moment. He sent her a look, but she couldn't decipher it but settled for that it meant to look inconspicuous at him walking towards her when he shouldn't be.

As tired as he looks, his eyes shine with strength and high regard, hiding away any worry that was in his eyes before.

Effortlessly, when he was only two steps away from her, he plucked a dried up flower from his coat pocket. A dead flower from the antique vase in Mr. Sackett's old tent.

He handed it to her, allowing their hands to brush faintly, before locking them together. His gentle hand hold lingering, crunching the flower which she feels a piece of paper scratching her hand while their eyes hold contact as if communicating a secret language.

"Have a good day Miss Lillian. I hope to see you soon," he voices, kissing her dry knuckles, before parting from her hand to carry on his straight posture. "I'd wear gloves even when it isn't snowing if I were you. Don't want your lovely little hands to freeze off." _Ben! How bold you just were! He is asking to be hung by his toes by my father personally! More importantly, where did that come from?_

"You too Major Tallmadge, I hope to see you as well," she tells him as they share the slightest of small smiles before he walks off.

It was less than a second, maybe half a second, but it changed everything. At least to her it did.

"You really need to stop seeing him behind my back," Derik appears next to her, frustrated with nostrils flaring. "Every time I look away he's there. That's how killers do it."

She rolls her eyes at the stableman, and her friend, "He isn't a killer. Is that what my father said?"

"No, but he made me heed his warning. He told me about his ruthless interrogation techniques. If he catches him here and I'm not with you, I'll get in trouble."

"You won't get in trouble. He'll just fuss at you. Besides, I'm in the process of convincing him to not treat Ben that way. By the way, he isn't ruthless."

"Ben?"

Her eyes widen, "The Major. Sorry, my mistake. I'm still in shock from the death; I was giving him orders, no time for formalities." She partially lied.

He scoffs, "I was about to say, you can't possibly love him."

"Why not?" she mumbles, walking away from Derik like he said something wrong.

"Do you?" He runs about beside her, so they can walk side by side in stride to nowhere. They were just walking around the camp, but the closest parts to her tent.

"As a friend yes." After she spoke these few words, she got a headache from rethinking what she said, and her throat felt dry.

* * *

 _'In order to secure safe passage to York City, Culper offered to spy for the enemy to cover his true work for 711.'_

"Abe, you dumb bastard," Caleb utters, throwing the letter from Anna up, but still in his tight grasp as he takes a swig of Madeira in his other hand.

Sighing after a satisfying gulp of the sweet and sultry wine, the dark bottle is taken forcibly by two hands belonging to no one other than Benjamin, who continues walking quickly in a heap of anger, drinking it as he walks.

 _Mustn't be good_ , Caleb thinks. He knows his friend from the back of his hand. When Ben drinks, it isn't a good thing because he has little to no tolerance for any alcoholic beverage. The only reason he ever drunk is because he is very unhappy which leads to rage, and said _rage_ leads to actual damage. Never forgetting hearing from Ben back in March 1771 that he, Nathan, and his older brother (all attendees of Yale) were fined heavily (a shilling and five pence) for breaking windows following a prolonged visit to a local tavern. Ben, who had drunk deeper of the addicting amber nectar than the Hales, was amerced another seven pence for additional damage to college property. Unhappy from what however or just exposed to drinking for the first time, he didn't know. He thinks it was just his first time drinking, which had gone wrong.

"Right, so I guess it didn't go well, then," Caleb follows behind him, beginning to get answers out of him.

"I'm being transferred," Ben announces miserably.

"He's dismissing you from camp?"

"I'm no longer head of intelligence," Ben, this time, says sounding finished.

Caleb, rather infuriated himself at the commanding general, spots the hidden anger about to come out Ben's mouth, "Just goes to show he ain't got no head for intelligence himself!"

"He blames me twice. First for being a bad influence on Lillian. I caused her to think irrationally and to rebel from her parents. What do I look like her rough older brother?"

"Well if she were from little Setauket then I'd have my suspicions. But no! She's still the strong headed woman she's always been."

Ben stares at him crassly, "For that I won't say anything further on her. But this one is the real kicker."

"Says a man with no experience in anything dealing with women. Women are always the kicker," Caleb smirks. "Even if she's a thick in the head general's daughter."

Ben ignored him as he continued explaining further, "Second is Abe going rogue. He says if I couldn't command obedience from a friend handpicked for the task, then what hope do I have of gaining it from any other asset?"

"Well, I'm an asset, aren't I?" Ben takes a moment to stop at his friends words, and melodramatically turn to him in annoyance. "Not that I always do what you tell me, right," Caleb sighs as his smirk fades.

"Lil' Washington is an asset. And other fine 'ass' things."

Thumping the back of Caleb's head with his hand, the sullen Major frowns, "Not in the field she isn't which is where I need people. And watch your mouth; you're probably the only one left on Washington's good side, surprisingly."

Walking only a couple feet further until Ben stops again, to gulp down some more Madeira through his tightly lined lips set in the same frown, with an overall flustered face and growls out, "Come the new year, I'm being sent to Boston to appraise the status of their defenses. What horse shite!It's a good thing Abe's in prison, otherwise I'd strangle the bastard with my own bare hands. How could he just lie to us like that?"

"Calm down," Caleb tries to quiet the blue uniformed man who is speaking over the regular conversation sound level. "You lie to him all the time, Ben. We both did right from the beginning."

"No, this is different. Pretending to be a double agent, he's caught himself in his own damn web," Ben spits as he throws the entire glass bottle of Madeira, smashing it on the stones surrounding a small fire, the flames sizzling from the disturbance.

"Hey!" Caleb's jaw drops. "Now, that's just a waste of good Madeira."

"It's over, Caleb. It's all over," Ben shakes his head, smacking his dry lips and wishing he didn't smash the bottle.

"Would you just calm down? It's not over," Caleb walks closer to Ben so they are conversing lower. "We have Lillian who is trying to get Freddy back into the city where he belongs and to meet up with this Mulligan fellow on missing intelligence the Lt. Colonel mentioned. And according to Anna, if we get Hewlett back to Setauket, he can release Abe from prison, right? And then we're back in business. So where is Major Hewlett? Our defender of Long Island?"

"Being held at an outpost near New Haven. He's been found guilty of wartime atrocities," Ben answers neglectfully.

"Atrocities?"

"Yeah, that's right. They said that he murdered their commander, wrote a note in his blood, and pinned his tongue to it. They were quite specific, and now they're calling for Washington to sign off on his execution."

Caleb hums at the gross detail, looking off to the side in thought for a split second before turning back to his tall friend, "Well, the man did try and blow me up with his cannon, but he never at all seemed to me like a fiend."

"No, he released my father, he arrested Simcoe, he held to our truce. He seemed like a man of honor."

"Well, did you tell that to Washington?" Caleb eyes widen in disbelief. He swears Ben is thick in the head at times too!

"No. He hasn't decided what to do yet. But he does not feel compelled to free an alleged murderer on behalf of a failed spy," Ben speaks low the last two words, feeling like one himself. _A failed head of intelligence._

"Lilly can do no convincing?"

"Even if she tried, no. That isn't her business anyway she is dealing with her own problems while healing and spying."

"Maybe we make up his mind for him then. If Hewlett's still there come the New Year, we can make a detour on the way to Boston, right? Outrank those New Haven boys," Caleb blinks hesitantly, coming up with the plan as he speaks.

"They're not likely to just hand him over."

"Right," Caleb smiles, pausing long enough to make sure Ben understands him. "Well, then, we kidnap him ourselves. Make it look like those lobsters stole him back."

"Just the two of us?"

"Yeah."

"If Washington found out he'd—" Ben thinks of the serious and courageous general, but in all a Virginia gentleman; his loving wife by his side every winter, courageous herself and extraordinarily kind to every man she talks to boosting their morale; and his endearing daughter soon follows. The same vision of her the first day he saw her dressed in a gold gown is permanently carved in his mind for life. A gold dress as if the sun made it, and ivory brocade, as if the snow kissed it, and her glowing olive white skin, as if the finest gloss was painted on her innocent doll like frame. She looked, and still looks, like sweet survival; after all she's been through out of her control, it's almost criminal. And she continues carrying herself with grace and happiness.

"He'd come round," Caleb watches his friends eyes reflect on some thought he was having, as he was beginning to share the same smile as he. But little did he know it was about something, someone, entirely different from Abe, and George Washington.

"Abe isn't just Abe. He's Culper."

* * *

"Father, mother, excuse me. I wondered if I might ask a favor," Lillian starts, as she enters her father's tent, her mother being with him tonight. Drawing the plush hood back of her cloak revealing the shiny glow of satin, her father nods in affirmation so she continues to ask.

"Can I travel to New York for a few days?"

"For what?" This time her mother asks.

"To visit Samuel Culper. To reassure myself that he's all right and to reassure him that his family and _we_ haven't forgotten about him. And to visit my hairdresser, Freddy."

As expected, her father's eyes bulged out his face as he choked on his tea. _I should've told him to put it down,_ she berates herself. This may not end well now.  
"I'm afraid I can't allow that. A prison is no place for a woman, nevertheless—"

"- _my daughter._ Yes, I'm your daughter. I've been exposed to the dangers of the world father, I'm sure I can handle New York, and a prison where the sick thrive particularly this time of year. The University would like to have me back to become a doctor and possibly teach one day, but they would like to see more experience then war camps. Prison will be a huge leap for me."

"More college? When did you find this out?" Her mother's voice is softer than her father's breathy, now rumbling voice, so Lillian didn't hear her.

"My god, only my Lilly would think of prison as a huge leap for her career," George stands up from his chair at the small table, where he and his wife were playing cards and sipping tea. He went to refill his teacup from the kettle on the fire. "And no you haven't been exposed to every danger of the world! Think before you speak. Have you forgotten our enemy is positioned in every single inch of New York?"

"They… they don't know what I look like," she sighs, remembering when the war began of this warning be told to her, even though some may not know what she looks like, or if she exists, others can spread rumor and it could leak to the British's ears.

"I was right. He has been a terrible influence on you. You aren't thinking properly anymore. That is my fault," her father then says which makes her eyes snap to his in defense.

"Who?" Both her and her mother ask him.

"Major Tallmadge."

"No!" Lillian snaps at him, which makes him narrow his eyes and raise a brow. "More like you should ask yourself 'what are you thinking!' 'Think before _you_ speak' father."

"Lilly! That's enough," her mother tries to stop her from her seat at the table, but she only shakes her head at her mother, full out rebelling against them both.

"You're wrong too! How many times have you asked me since day one, 'why don't you see Major Tallmadge? You are quite happy and taken by him.' How many mother? And yet you still act like my feelings and he don't exist."

"Martha.." George questions her with an annoyed, low grumble from his throat.

"Many," she answers. "This has nothing to do with what you're arguing about. And feelings? What feelings? You say there aren't any when I ask."

"He's my friend. One of my closer friends, those _feelings_ ," she answers clearly, but once again her throat is dry after she says it, and her heart thuds in dull pain.

"Friend or not, he is a bad influence on you, and most of all me and this army. Therefore I removed him as Head of Intelligence, to save any further damage. And that is all you need to know," George says returning to his chair calmly, but only setting his teacup down, gaging his daughter's reaction.

"You didn't!" She bites her lip and swallows back some thick saliva generated from her nerves. "Are you mad!"

"Yes I am for allowing you to continue to talk that way to me," he frowns, looking at her in disappointment which only angers her more. He caused it!

"Well it seems you have as little feeling for me as you have for the good of your army. You lost a good man. Have you even spoken to him since… yesterday? Surely you're not going to just let him languish in resentment towards us stationed in another god-forsaken pit. If he was my head of intelligence, I'd be doing everything that I could to help him, and show him his errors to fix."

"The army is not meant to teach such things one should already know. That was his father's job before sending him off into the world. And how would that teach him a lesson? Benjamin should use this time to reflect on the error of his ways, as perhaps you should reflect on the error of yours."

"The error of mine? Well, that is a large list, but it seems to narrow down in my mind to existing. It's an error for me to exist to begin with."

Her parent's intake of breath made her heart shatter, just as theirs, but it's true. The darkness of depression is enveloping the rest of her insides and threatening to burst out now.

"You say I do everything right, then when I do mess up you claim I'm doing everything wrong. What logic is that? I've been communicating with Ben through writing, because he has been my only solace, next to Caleb, to speak to about personal grievances and matters. In that time of reflection, I've learned I don't need to change, and I never did change. You both have. This war has both of you thinking irrational for the welfare of my future. Mostly you father. And dare I say it has you thinking irrational for the welfare of this country."

"How so?" Her father asks simply, with his breathy voice, having listened intently to every word she said.

"You lost one of our champions. My champion in my eyes. Major Benjamin Tallmadge, who never lost sight of what's important to him, the brains behind finding out every recent enemy statistic, even more now since Mr. Sackett is no longer with us, and he never abandons me."

Her eyes shut somewhere during her speaking, hot tears streaming down her cheeks from her strong words to both her parents. She shook when she heard her father stand up, the chair creaking, and he made his way over to her.

But he wouldn't slap her. _Never._

"Have I abandoned you?" He asks quietly.

Eyes still shut, she nods her head slowly, ashamed that it's come to this.

"You abandoned my spirit, meaning you're not looking at me as your daughter anymore, but just a delimited female. War and work is no excuse. That is the reason why I'm not myself lately. Benjamin is not the blame. You're my father, and I love you, and I counted on you to never lose sight of your real little girl, the one you met the first night I stayed at your home. I shouldn't need someone's support, but after my scarring childhood, that's what I need to survive. Yours above all. That's why I had not many friends, but when I did, do, I know I have them at my call and aid, whether its help or just to talk. They see me for who I am, accept it, and love me, and whatever is going on it doesn't change them. They're the same after all this time. And no matter what, they always find a way to be at my side."

"I am sorry, Lillian," he tells her, tears escaping the far corners of his eyes. "I never meant to. I didn't even want to be the last person who would hurt you. I'm so sorry."

His hands rest on her shoulders, and at this she opens her eyes; her sensitive, fragile, fearing eyes which have remained the same since he adopted her. She has only grown up on the outside and learned how to mask everything with a confident face and smile.

"I've lived in your house long enough to know when it comes to politics, you're an even greater businessman. You don't really believe Ben is untrustworthy, you just believe getting rid of him is the safest bet. I thought it was a rule, no bets or gambles in our house and in this army."

This makes him smirk momentarily.

"You need to choose between what's good for you and what's good for the future of our country."

Pulling her close after drying her eyes, hugging her tight, he exclaims in one breath, "You are right."

* * *

That night, Lillian sneaks to the even darker wooden barn blending in with the night and snow, falling considerably now, but just enough so she can still see.

Opening the heavy door with ease, she steps in quickly, looking back outside to make sure she wasn't seen, before shutting it with her gloved hands, tightly.

Exhaling, she calls for him, "Ben?"

"I'm here, just a moment."

Furrowing her eyebrows at his far off voice, she makes her way to where she heard his voice, spying the contraption to copy and rewrite documents on the way. What a fiasco that ended up being.

"I didn't know you could fit so much writing onto a small bit of paper, crumble it, and put it in a dried up flower."

"It worked though, didn't it?" He calls back, still unseen in the dark barn with only one candle lit in the middle.

"Where are you? I'm not going to keep talking to nothing. We need more light too! I have my own news to share."

Finally, she hears his footsteps sounding towards her, boots thudding on the wooden boards, but stumbling?

"Ben what's wrong? Why are you—" his tall form comes closer to the candle light, with another candle in his hand already lit, but he looks beaten up. "Are you drunk?"

"No… yes… I slept it off all day, nothing much to do since I've been stripped of my important duty which actually meant much more than Major of the 2nd Continental Light dragoons."

She sighs as she takes the candle from him, and places it down as she sees his uniform is all in place, black cloak surrounding him like a blanket because the barn is drafty, but his hair is down loose, no ribbon tying it back making him now look roguishly handsome.

"Not for long you'll be stripped of that. He knows he lost a good man, I didn't even have to tell him that. He should be calling you back to him soon— Ben you look like you're about to pass out your eyes are dark."

Rubbing his face he groans, "No! I'm fine, please. I just woke up when I heard the door. I doubt he'll call me back, no need to convince him anymore Lillian. It's not your place to get in between two men who can't get along, nevertheless a Major and the Commanding General. But we tried. From the bottom of my heart I thank you…" he drags a chair over to the table, and sits down sloppily, "sincerely."

Huffing, she bites her lip, "Shut up."

She goes to get a chair, and drags it back to the table purposely letting it screech on the boards loudly, then sitting in it gently, taking her white gloves off and slapping them on the table, "Am I safe to be in your presence right now? Because we still have business to tend to."

As if that question snapped him out of his drunken stupor, he straightened and his eyes glisten now with remorse, "Of course. I'd never do anything cruel to you."

"Fine then. Now would you like to tell me more of your dilemma, or listen to my dilemma? Personally, I'd rather hear yours."

"Well, _personally_ I'd rather hear yours," he laughs gently. "Ladies first."

"You're drunk, speak while you still can or so help me I'll give you some nasty tasting medicine that'll make you wish you'd never took a sip of that awful beverage that made you not yourself," she replies back with authority in her tone.

"Is that a threat my lady?"

"Why yes it was, _Major_."

Every word said in a slurry jest, but in that moment he felt his heart throb in pain when she spat back at him, somewhat playful but she was serious.

"Fine, I'm being relocated to Boston to appraise the status of their defenses come the new year."

 _What?_ "Boston? Of all places why there?" She asks him with a tight swallow. _Why am I feeling so sad? It's only relocation. And my father disbanded him as head of intelligence._

"I don't know, but obviously someone is needed there to 'appraise' their status. It seems more like a messenger's job, or Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton's job. He looks like a good appraiser."

A short eruption of laughter spills out her mouth, but she is quick to cover it, not wanting to draw attention to the building by being loud.

"You're so funny. Did you ever think to make my father laugh? A good joke can probably fix it."

He guffaws with a smirk, "Coming from a rather serious person herself. But no, it didn't cross my mind, and if it did I'd never. If anything I learned in this army, always stay professional, even when you don't have to be. And I'm sorry for insulting the Lieutenant just then."

Waving his apology off, she responds to what he exclaimed before, "My how familiar does that sound. I have to do the same. At least you don't have to return home anytime soon and maintain it always and forever."

"Hey," he reaches across and touches her hand, laying his on top of hers. "There's a difference between being professional and the common, dutiful lady. In your case, the latter, it won't be for long. One day you will not have to stick to society's standards even in your own home. After the talk you had with your parents you told me—" _fight_ , she thinks. "—they should be loosening up. You're their only daughter yes, but it is time you make your own choices. You went to college did you not? Now you do what you want with the rest of your life. And I mean that in the kindest way possible, I don't mean to influence you wrongly."

Smiling she moves her hand around so she can hold his, "You never did and never will influence me wrongly. As you have exceptionally showed me, you are a moral gentleman. You make me better myself to be someone I always wanted to be. Thank you, Ben."

He waves off her gratitude with red cheeks, doing this taking his hand out of hers to fold his hands in his lap to calm his sudden uneasiness, "Now tell me your dilemma."

Letting out a sigh, she begins to fear his reaction.

"Well the good news I have is that Freddy wrote me—the same time I wrote to him about him returning to the city to _spy around_."

Ben's eyes widen anxiously, and lean back straightens against the chair, "Yes?"

"Freddy was there in the house of Major John Andre the night… Gamble returned to him with our vital documents."

"What is he doing there at his house? And what did Gamble say? He better not have been caught," Ben's mouth flies open with questions and other worries, even jumping out of his chair to drag his chair closer to hers to perhaps hear every word so clear. At least he is focusing more now and not depressing himself for nothing.

"He is my hairdresser and Peggy Shippen's. She was visiting John Andre, god only knows why, and Freddy was there to style her hair at the ready," she explains, playing with her chilled, shaking hands while doing so, but not wanting to put her gloves back on just yet. She's trying to build up on what she is about to say.

"Benedict Arnold has mentioned her once to me. They seem smitten with each other last I talked to him," Ben interrupts with a hand under his chin, looking at nothing in particular past Lillian.

"He loves anything wearing silk with breasts and fortune, go figure," she muttered under her breath, not meaning to say it aloud at all.

"I meant to say that in my head," she glares at Ben playfully at his rumbling laughter, eyes closing shut and causing his round cheeks to look even redder.

"Well, you didn't mean to because you said it aloud."

She cuts him off distractedly, "Anyway, back to more important things, Peggy and the handmaiden went upstairs. Freddy was in the other parlor downstairs when Gamble arrived in the rain. He was setting up his little area for hair styling, so Andre paid him no mind saying he'd be in his office, but when he was finished setting up he went looking for Peggy and him, quietly of course because everyone disappeared. Going down the hallway he heard Andre and Gamble talking in the office. In his letter he details—"

"Do you have it?" she nods at his question solemnly. "May I see it?"

Nodding again, sighing regrettably she hands it to the major. She felt explaining it herself would sound better. She is after all the communicator from her people to Ben. Even though Freddy is really her only person now, she still feels the same way.

Ben takes the half folded paper, and opens it to rather fancy hand writing coming from a man.

It read:

 _Miss Lillian Kennedy,_

 _I regrettably have to inform you of the trouble about to havoc on the spy ring. First, fear not, I sent this after I left Major John Andre's house for better delivering purposes, as sending hair tools to my lover wouldn't seem plausible in the British head of intelligence's eyes. I was invited by Miss Peggy Shippen to tend to her hair during her stay in the household. Putting much gossip aside that my core begs to tell you, fellow friend—because she and I made no promise to spread rumor about one another—as I was setting up in the visiting parlor, a man by the name of a Lt. Gamble arrived in the pouring rain. I heard John Andre greet the man, and silence followed. After unpacking I treaded carefully down the hallway, keeping my promise to you in mind on finding anything out on the British, but in all honesty I half excepted Peggy and Andre to be making love in his office quarters._

 _I stopped before I approached the closed doors of Major Andre's office, and eavesdropped on the unpleasant conversation about all of yours wellbeing._

 _Lt. Gamble knows of Major Benjamin Tallmadge being the main man in charge, not this Sackett who appeared to be an advisor to him during a debriefing. Andre was rather surprised Ben. Tallmadge was appointed Major having last heard of his 'interrogation methods.' Whatever that may mean._

 _They have the intelligence Culper sent to you on the naval strength in New York Harbor, Andre confessing the numbers are accurate, congratulations on that feat._

 _Of course, this allows them to believe Washington has a man inside New York by the name of Samuel Culper, whose name was in the letters. Andre strongly believes Culper lives on Long Island, Oyster Bay or Flatbush.. I apologize I'm remembering as much places he quoted as I could._

 _Lt. Gamble mentioned you, 'what of this Lillian Kennedy?' He doesn't believe you to be one of the ladies washing the officer's uniforms in the camp and neither does Andre. Since your name was 'bearing close resemblance' to one of Culper's, your names on one letter, and a separate paper on tasks you have yet accomplished, Andre believes you to be on the surrounding areas of Long Island as well—as far as New York City._

 _Andre has Captain Simcoe, who is quartered in Long Island with Queen's Rangers for the winter, and will have him scour the island for Culper and you._

 _I pray for your safety, friend. I apologize for the grief and stress it causes you (your hair must be a mess), as you have suffered enough already._

 _Stay hidden and careful writing back to me, especially with your alias._

 _Best wishes, and will await to hear from you,_

 _Freddy._

Lillian watched Ben read it with worried eyes, his eyes blinking in anger on what documents they have lost—and the man is even further enraged John Andre will have Simcoe scour the island for Abe and Lillian!

Breathing heavily, and looking down at the ground with closed eyes, he crunches the paper together with his hands before letting it fall loosely to the ground.

"It's not over yet, Ben. Far from it. We need to remain calm. Freddy's letter was unexpected," she goes to stand up slowly so she can stand in front of him. "We need to begin cleaning the mess we have on our hands."

His fists unclench and fly in front of him to grab her hands tightly, eyes as wild as his disarrayed hair.

"A mess that's all my fault for not keeping you safe as I said and promised! Have you met or even seen Simcoe? He _will_ heed orders, and _will_ kill a spy, man or woman without a second glance! My tortures on him weren't enough."

Blinking at his cracking voice, sounding as if he is in heartache, she adds with a shake of her head, "It isn't your fault! Get that through your head. What about Abe? Abe is more important than I, he is the one who is in prison right now! Not to mention, Culper had more of the detailed reports so they will be looking into him more than a woman—who is probably a messenger in their eyes. We— _You_ and my father need him much more than me! So I will drop out of this spy ring, for my own safety and the ring."

Benjamin bites his dry bottom lip during her words, causing it to bleed because they are so chapped and he is this worried, "I need you both! You will not drop out just yet I need you more than you realize."

"And you will have me if you stop worrying and focus on the matter at hand!"

"I have plenty of time later, even on my ride to Boston to focus! Let me worry now and accept my failure—" he paused because his head sharply turned right, and he felt a growing sting on his cheek from a small hand which slapped him.

"You won't be going anywhere if you keep this attitude up. Do not speak of failure in front of me. Do not worry in front of me, being the strong man we both know—we all know—you are. I am here in front of you now, safe and sound in the Continental Army camp where no Simcoe will get to me. I am far from New York and Long Island where my alias will be hunted. And they don't know who Culper or Miss Kennedy is."

The whole time she spoke he was looking down, off to the right, still in place from the effect of her slap.

"Why did you slap me?"

"What, you think it assault? Then no, I slapped you to wake you up from the nightmare you were having in your own thoughts. I slapped my best friend is what I did, and I am not sorry, I'm sorry to say."

His breath and nose let out a couple huffs of laughter at her apologizing for not being sorry. She even let out a soft giggle at how silly she sounded.

"I'm sorry for slapping you. It was uncouth of me," she still apologized, and looked away from him ashamedly.

His fingers go under her chin, turning her to face him gently, "I deserved it. I'm sorry for being uncouth in front of you of all people. You are right, it isn't that worrisome the more I let it sink in. It will be a while before they find fake people."

She narrows her eyes, "You can't find fake people. They _won't_ find us."

"Not if Abe is returned to Setauket, where Simcoe will scour daily for traitors there."

"Good old Abe," Lillian exhales. "They will hunt me down though. Andre sounded very intent on finding us—"

"As he should, but he won't find out anyone, especially you," his hand snaked around her waist and smoothly tugged her closer to him. She had completely forgot his fingers were under her chin they are so warm. "You have my word."

She nods her head, lost in the paradise of his blue eyes the light blue shiny reef of the sea. It is only the beginning to a deeper ocean. But feeling her heart twist, and her mind drifts to Alexander Hamilton, she takes his hand and lowers it away from her face with regret.

He looks at her confused, until she removes his hand around her waist which is when he realizes what he has done.

"You forget yourself Ben."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you did nothing wrong, honestly. It must be midnight already; it's late for the both of us. It's time I head out. Meet me here first thing in the morning, alright? We'll speak further on what precautions to take."

"Alright but please, are you uncomfortable with me now?" I asks restlessly.

"Of course not. You care for me as I do you," she answers with a smile causing him to lose all restlessness in his face to a broad smile.

Putting her gloves back on, and picking up the letter from Freddy on the ground, placing it in the pocket of her dress, she tells the black cloaked Major lastly, "Since I care for you, I will ask of you to not drink anymore, at least around me. Drunk men are one of my many fears and least favorites."

Ben's mind swirling with so many different thoughts, but smiling even larger at her sounding like her regular self, the self he met the first time they communicated—bold, broad, and mysteriously graceful.

"Of course Miss Washington."

Laughing, she opens the door and flings it shut behind her leaving Ben in a whole other mess, but this mess only his own and no one else's.

 **A/N: *long sigh* Love is in the air... But so is death and danger muahaha. *clears throat* But that's reality, at least for this story in one of history's most happening times. I apologize for the wait, I didn't expect to take this long with the chapter, but that's what I get for combining the end of Sealed Fate with Houses Divided- and even harder, Ben and Caleb didn't have as much screen time in Houses Divided, and weren't in the Valley Forge episode at all! But that chapter may be up quick because my imagination is zapping onto the keyboard like lightening without having to follow a certain script of dialogue and what not.**

 **So... Ben is depressed, not Head of Intelligence any more.** **Caleb and Ben plan to kidnap Major Hewlett back in order to get Abe out of prison. Lillian faces relationship problems with Alexander Hamilton. Lillian argues with her parents, but makes up in a way. Abe is a 'dumb bastard,' as said by Caleb lol. And finally (drunk/hangover/ whatever you want to call it) Ben and Lillian have a moment... so close to kissing! Sorry to keep you on the edge of your seats, don't throw rocks at me. BUT I PROMISE they will kiss verryyyy soon *hint hint*. Thanks to the awesome hair stylist and spy Freddy, they were warned of John Andre ordering Simcoe to scour the island for _Culper_ and Lillian _Kennedy_. Will Simcoe make a grand appearance next? Or will someone else, quite expected, pop up out of nowhere? **

**Follow me to Valley Forge, next chapter. Stay tuned!**

 **I anxiously await the snowy campsight (perfect timing for being December! Totally unplanned for working out that way lol) ; and thank you all for continuing to read, favorite, review, and follow! :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	26. Chapter 26: Valley Forge

**A/N: Late Christmas present I know- but I was typing up my longest chapter yet! More than 12,000 words, twelve days of Christmas.. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! Hope this year goes well for you all and everyday is the best :)**

 **And I hope you all like this chapter! Please enjoy. :)**

 **~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~()~**

 **Chapter 26: Valley Forge**

 ** _Previously…_**

 _Lillian narrows her eyes, "You can't find fake people. They won't find us."_

 _"Not if Abe is returned to Setauket, where Simcoe will scour daily for traitors there."_

 _"Good old Abe. They will hunt me down though. Andre sounded very intent on finding us—"_

 _"As he should, but he won't find out anyone, especially you," Ben's hand snaked around her waist and smoothly tugged her closer to him. She had completely forgot his fingers were under her chin they are so warm. "You have my word."_

 _She nods her head, lost in the paradise of his blue eyes—the light blue shiny reef of the sea. It is only the beginning to a deeper ocean. But feeling her heart twist, and her mind drifts to Alexander Hamilton, she takes his hand and lowers it away from her face with regret._

 _He looks at her confused, until she removes his hand around her waist which is when he realizes what he has done._

 _"You forget yourself Ben."_

 _"I'm sorry."_

 _"No, you did nothing wrong, honestly. It must be midnight already; it's late for the both of us. It's time I head out. Meet me here first thing in the morning, alright? We'll speak further on what precautions to take."_

 _"Please, are you uncomfortable with me now?" He asks restlessly._

 _"Of course not. You care for me as I do you," she answers with a smile causing him to lose all restlessness in his face to a broad smile._

 _Putting her gloves back on, and picking up the letter from Freddy on the ground, placing it in the pocket of her dress, she tells the black cloaked Major lastly, "Since I care for you, I will ask of you to not drink anymore, at least around me. Drunk men are one of my many fears."_

 _Ben's mind swirling with so many different thoughts, but smiling even larger at her sounding like her regular self, the self he met the first time they communicated—bold, broad, and mysteriously graceful._

 _"Of course Miss Washington."_

 ** _The following morning.._**

" _Baker_ …" Lillian moans in her sleep, as she and Ensign Albert Baker are kissing passionately in an unknown bed in a bright, white sunlit room.

 _"Lillian…" Baker's tongue dances with hers as his buff, bare-armed hold on her tightens._

 _"I offered help at Whitehall to assist the Magistrate and his wounds, but she said it wasn't necess-"_

 _Breaking the kiss, his breath catches, "No. No you did not just—you did not just say that, please tell me you didn't meet him."_

 _"The Magistrate? No, not yet anyway. I plan on somehow getting there to find any information on the British."_

 _"No this is not good for you. He will be the first to figure out who you are if Mary tells him. He may figure me out!"_

 _"Not every man in the world has seen me! Not once have I met British officers, other than you. Why do people make that assumption? Am I that prominent of a figure?"_

 _He goes to lean over her, large muscular arms taking up her vision, "Yes! They may not have seen you, but any description from a rebel who has met you, taken as prisoner by our men wallowing in misery, they can paint you in their minds. And your loyalist neighbors if I remember correctly can be communicating with us redcoats about you."_

 _"Well then. Their imagination must be terrible because no one confronted me, ever. I want to go to New York… I want to be out there doing something in the field."_

 _"Are you trying to dig me an early grave?" Baker's dark eyes bore into hers hauntingly and full of blame._

 _"Oh, wait, you already have."_

Lillian jolts up awake with cry, and her mother, hearing her, was at her bedside instantly.

"Lilly.."

"Mom!" She shakes with tears into her mother's embrace. "I can't take it. I'm slowly turning into Patsy."

"Now, now. Not true," Martha soothes, petting her daughter's head. "Would you like me to sing?"

Lillian shakes her head, "Tell me everything will be alright. Tell me I'll be happy."

Martha kisses her forehead, "It will be alright. You will be happy, you are happy. You have so much to look forward to, my sweet."

"Do you mind that I'm in the ring? What if I had to go out and do something one day? Not by anyone's orders, but because I have to."

Martha looks down at her, "Look at me, Lilly. You have nothing to prove to the world or anyone around you. All you have to prove is to be yourself in a world that's trying to change you, and you accomplished that long ago. But, like recently, such as last night's little debacle…"

Lillian looks down at her blankets regretfully at her mother's knowing look.

"If you need to do something, not only want, I'm not stopping you just like I didn't stop you from arguing with your father last night."

"Wait, no. You told me to stop once—"

"I recall never saying stop. And I never said anything else afterwards. I meant for you to proceed with caution, and your father knew this. He doesn't want you to grow up or make wrong decisions like he did when he was not much younger than you. He was a rough country boy, that is, and not the sweet, strong young lady you were and still are."

"Does he talk about me when I'm not around? About me helping to spy?"

Martha chuckles, "Not as often as you may think. It's _confidential_ as Mr. Sackett once said. When there are dinners however, with some officers, he brags about you. How you went to college, your horse riding skills… painting, harp playing, and dancing, which he claims he taught you well."

Lillian shakes with laughter, "That man."

" _That man_ has not one bad bone in his body including his mind. He thinks every detail through that comes his way; after all, he took up the majority of the decision to take you in all those years ago. I see so much of him in you and you in him when you're not even related by blood!"

The young woman swallows, tears welling up in her eyes feeling a sensation of emotions overwhelm her.

Martha leans closer to her ear to whisper, "And just between us, but I fathom you already know this, and do this. But while your father may cut off people from seeing you, he hasn't stopped you entirely. Told you to not see a certain _someone_ , but has he actually stopped you?"

"No."

"Always had, and always will see you as his little girl, as I you. You mean well and do right, young Washington. Do what you have to do to help your father, yourself and your country. I think I am perfectly able to play both our roles during this war as _Lady Washingtons_ in the sewing circle and the ball room floor _._ Be you, but be careful."

"Oh mother!" Lillian throws her arms around her mother so tight, she felt the breath in her chest rising and falling, and the smile in her voice.

* * *

 **Ben's POV and 3** **rd** **Person**

With my uniform on as regulated, sword on my left side, white plumed helmet tucked under my right arm as I brace the cold wind blowing towards me as me and my tight leather boots walk wittingly towards Washington's tent, because he called upon me.

The tent upon entering fell silent as Washington was conferring with his wife, and a handful of other officers, spying William Bradford in the mix, whom I had a dicey round with the last year.

"You are all dismissed, thank you," Washington stated to them all, hands folded behind his back facing the exit, even nodding towards his finely dressed dark haired wife who kisses his cheek considerately before brushing past me with a confident look. Perhaps this won't be a terrible visit after all.

After all have left, standing off to the side in the entrance, as I stepped aside for the officers to exit, I await Washington's words.

"Major Tallmadge."

"My Excellency. You sent for me."

George Washington's mind was swarming with different thoughts in their varieties as he assessed the Major in front of him, standing unflinchingly and straight-faced. Ever since the assassination attempt, George was shaken. He had been so sure, so certain yet it appeared that he had missed something in his calculations. He still doubted that General Lee was an assassin or part of some assassination plot, including Major Bradford, but he would discover the truth shortly once he gets some moments to himself, and after he gives Major Tallmadge an apology.

His daughter got the best of him, and the Major, apparently. Why she took a strong liking to him he would never know, but his daughter is never wrong, only he could be wrong. But he will slowly admit to this with the Major...

The young man, so earnest and loyal stood opposite, cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes bright with youthful strength. His gaze was fixed on his Commander with a determination to act as he saw fit with no excuses. Admirable, if a little misplaced at times.

Sighing, Washington put a hand on the back of his chair, pulling it out to sit in it behind his desk, "Major I believe I owe you an apology."

Shock stole across my face, "Sir?"

"In my estimations and gambles I have obviously overlooked a larger plot. Providence however looked out for me by ensuring your guard never failed. For this I thank you."

I only bow my head at his gratitude, and await his next words.

"However, with your words which I quote 'all of this could have been averted if you had listened to me,' I see the sentiment behind them, but I still cannot condone the words themselves. We have previously seen how your heavy-handed approach could have cost us a French alliance. One, without which, we would struggle to win the war, I stress yet again. Your intelligence is remarkable, your faith outstanding and your loyalty to me and my family is one of the greatest boons I could ask for, yet all of this does not negate your impetuousness and my decision to have removed you as head of intelligence."

"Sir!" I snap without control. Being spoken to negatively, even slightly, has never been something I've taken lightly. "If I hadn't acted you could be dead! Lee…"

"General Lee is innocent until proven guilty. As you saw I had my suspicions as did you and we were both proven correct in one instance; the other remains to be seen. Major, can you not see how dangerous misplaced devotion is? You acted will just now, but to act further could conceal the scent and devour the truth so it's ever beyond our reach."

Blinking once, and my right hand tightening its hold on my helmet, "Sir, as I stress again, I do what I see is best at the time. Sackett-"

"-is dead due to our miscommunication. If the appropriate order has been followed instead of you using underhand methods to entrap our fellow officers, his death could have been averted!"

My face felt it has gone pale, and silent pain rages inside me, increasing my further agitation with our conversation.

"This isn't a game Major Tallmadge! We are at war and people's lives are at stake. It's gritty, dangerous, and unrelenting. You and I may not like it, but while spying permits a measure of deceitful actions concealed from almost all, the result of those endeavors must go through the proper chains of command. If they do not we cannot call ourselves men and certainly not just ones."

Searching my face it seemed, his eyes shone bright on seeing understanding cross my face.

"We are not free to act without censure or answering to a higher authority whether man or Divine. From now on you will obey my directives or you must surrender your post."

"Sir," my voice shakily says, and my eyes wet. "I have done what I must do to ensure your safety. I understand why you have done what you must. My duty will be to always serve you in which ever capacity you deem fit. Please let me prove myself again—I shall accept your judgement."

Nodding his head, he contemplates on his next words with thinking, hard eyes.

"You will still lead your troop, leaving the start of the new week to Boston to appraise the status of their defenses as well as on the way, observing British movements and intercept their shipments of food in Philadelphia. Until the New Year, Major Tallmadge."

"Sir," I bow my head, after nodding at his orders, all engraved in my mind.

On my way out, he asks, "Find our servant Derik, please, and inform him to tell William to return to my tent, and to bring Lillian to me whenever she is able."

"Yes sir," I respond just as orderly, my heart fluttering hearing her name, or is it from the ice cold wind hitting my face once more? Or is it because of the possibility I won't see her again until next winter? All in all, my heart flutters like a baby bird reaching for the worm all the same.

* * *

In Mr. Sackett's old tent, now formerly known as the temporary intelligence tent, Caleb peculiarly sits on top of a wooden table in a relaxed fashion, one leg dangling and the other bent up atop the table, watching Benjamin run around finding any papers with either Culper's name on it, or Lillian's.

"I'm still not getting it Benny-boy," Caleb confesses. "Freddy sent a letter about him catching wind of Andre and Gamble's chat, and they mentioned Culper and Lil' Washington."

Ben stops in place to look up at his friend, taking the paper he had in his mouth out to correct him, "Lillian _Kennedy_. Her alias of course—"

"—And Simcoe will be hunting them down."

"Yes! What aren't you getting?" Ben throws the papers in his hands down on the table, taking a moment from his organizing to help his friend understand.

"We're not in _grave danger_ , yet. I'm just not getting why you're so freaked out when you normally take it on the chin and react better than... this. Is organizing really helping you? I expect you to be drinking under that much stress and immediately planning something, not that you should. Drink that is." _Then his planning can be slightly poor—getting it done time-wise,_ Caleb adds in his mind.

"I don't resort to drinking every time. I am organizing their names into separate piles so I know how much information of them we have over all, but their intelligent reports are separate from their letters. Miscellaneous pile has their reports with code. This is important and will help me start up a new plan as we are in limbo."

" _Limbo_ ," Caleb repeats popping the 'o'. "But what are you nervous about? There's no way the lobsters are going to find them out with that bit they stole. Old reports, their aliases- they will only get an idea of where they could be located."

Caleb lowers his leg from the table so that both are hanging off the side, "We're much smarter than them I say. We just have to play even smarter now."

Ben shakes his head in humor, "I agree and I like to think so as well. Last night, I was frightened out of my mind when she told me, as I was drunk." The embarrassed sigh that escaped him after he said this made him want to hide himself in one of the trunks, hide from the world. He embarrassed himself in front of her, and told _Caleb_ this embarrassing detail.

Caleb whistles, "What a sin you made. Tipsy and with someone with tits."

"Talking about trepidations," Ben raises his eyebrow with a spirited smirk to play along with his friend.

" 'Talk about treason, now… Tallboy."

Caleb stands up, taking his hat off to shake the snow flurries off that have blown in through one of the flaps closest to him inside the tent, "So… taken by any tori ladies?"

Chuckling, sifting through papers, and writing numbers in the corner of each on with his quill, "That is un-true. Running out of alliterations and T-words now?"

"No. Is it true you're… tolerably taken by the twinkling princess?"

"I beg your pardon?" Ben inquires looking up at his friend confusedly.

Caleb strides up from his table to the desk, and crosses his arms in front of him with a frown hidden underneath his snow flake covered beard, "I asked if you fancied Lillian. Do you really?"

Ben wanted to say no, but not that he found he couldn't say no, but that he stopped himself from saying anything because his heart thudded to a stop on what Caleb was implying.

Choosing to raise another eyebrow at his friend, he rejoinders, "You sound rather defensive. Do you fancy her?"

Caleb scoffs with a gray twinkle in his eyes, "Me and every other single man in this cold wake. More so now that there is rumor about her and Hammy-boy not getting along. But… I haven't grown those feelings for her just yet. It's noticeable you have though."

This information on Lillian and Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton piqued Ben's interest, but he shook his head and bit his lip distractedly while biting back a hard laugh at the nickname Caleb called the Lieutenant Colonel. Instead he snaps back, "Caleb I'm busy, there's no time for this or love! Why are you bringing this up?"

"Because I want you aware of _that_ problem we have on our hands. You said in the beginning, no time for love. It's dangerous to associate with anyone right now, especially her. Our line of work is the definition of danger."

"I agree."

"Nathan Hale died; he met her the summer before he passed. She loved a redcoat before Hamilton. The redcoat died—he was involved in our ring—and now Washington's aide-de-camp is involved.."

"Rotten luck on her part with what life brought her way. And Alexander Hamilton was involved with his own efforts before."

Caleb holds up a hand, "I get that, but do you see him on a whaling boat picking up the drop in a tree? Or any of his contacts riding on horses on patrol? Is being a handler a number one priority like you see it? What I'm saying is that it isn't safe for us to love someone during this time. There's a lot of time to confess our love, yes, but a greater chance of getting hurt. I don't want to see you get hurt, Ben. We came in solo; we'll go out solo, together. She is just playing her part like we both are."

Ben's thumb presses against the one paper he is holding creating a small indent, and the other hand rests at his side holding a quill. He can almost feel his eyes beginning to form tears, but he inhales deeply and shuts his eyes to clear them.

"She won't though, go out solo that is, as well. Heaven's knows how long this war will last, she won't be single forever."

"But that man isn't you."

Ben's eyes shut in hurt, and insult. _Who are you to tell me_ …

His jaw tightens and his tone bites back, "You don't think I know that! But know this: She is not and will never be the cause of anyone's death," he defends the endearing woman. _She knows what is safe for her and what isn't._

"Not if we don't get this close to her," Caleb pokes a finger on Ben's chest, above his heart, feeling like a needle went through it. "Believe me; it's hard for me too."

"Being close has nothing to do with it, we're close. Abe and Anna are close. We'd take bullets for each other right? Right!?"

Caleb shakes his head, "You're overthinking it. Calm down. You're not the only one that cares."

"Care about what?"

Ben and Caleb jump at Lillian's voice, both facing her with mouths dropped in dread.

But since she questioned Caleb, and is looking at him with high interest and showing no sigh she eavesdropped on them, he is quick to recover with the same somber tone he used in his declaration before, as it was still in his throat to speak further with Ben on 'that subject.'

"About our Culper at Livingston's sugar house prison. We need him out an' about again soon."

She nods her head, glancing briefly at Ben who returned back to pacing around, placing random papers in different piles, "We do. I pray he isn't freezing. I offered to go to New York with my brother and Derik to bail him out, but I'm sure you know the response from my father."

" _Hell no_ ," Ben mutters under his breath to himself.

Caleb chuckles, "Ever so thoughtful and brave, Miss Washington. But we have it under control."

"Aren't you two planning a trip to Major Hewlett's imprisonment site?"

"Yes we are. Leavin' before dawn tomorrow. Probably the only sleep we'll all get the entire trip," Caleb grunts out the last part.

"How so?"

"Benny boy wants to not tarry for long when we do stop. If any sleep it'll be on horseback in this hell that froze over."

She looks over at Ben who took a moment to look up as well when he heard his name mentioned.

"It sounds best to not tarry, however riding for that long in this low temperature may not be well on your body. Keep warm and your limbs moving," she informs them both, where Caleb only responds with a 'yes we will', and Ben is back in his own little world, not listening to anything but moving papers around more frantically.

"What is he doing?" She asks the bearded whaler.

" _Organizing_ ," Caleb grins over at his friend with a knowing eye, thinking back on their conversation before she walked in, "to cope with his _stress_."

"I'm ensuring nothing like Sackett's death happens again," Ben didn't look up, but he spat the words out with intendment for Caleb.

"You can let Lillian do all that, give her something to do that's why she came, she's bored out of her mind; we need to be readying our horses and supplies!"

Lillian's mouth purses shut, feeling out of place in their argument, "I'll do whatever you need me to. But really, I came to say goodbye for now. I'm not sure if I'll see you both when you get back if I'm gone by then."

"What? Ben you didn't tell me we'd be freezing our limbs off until spring," Caleb huffs at the major who finally sets papers down, and walks over to the two people, looking at Caleb.

"It's whenever I'm finished with Washington's orders. There is no guarantee we'll be back soon or until spring especially if our plan for Hewlett follows through and to get Abe back home and running again. Then appraising the bull-shite status in Boston."

Lillian's eyes widened in surprise at his last words, having never really heard Ben utter curse words before, "Be sure to tell Abe to think more than twice before he chances his cover like that again. I'd write everything on my mind to say but I think it'd mean more coming from you two. I support whatever you do," she causes both of them to laugh shortly at her request.

"I'll give him a lil' spankin'. I wish I could stay longer, but I need to ready up the boys. I hope we see each other sooner than next winter, Princess," with a rejuvenated twinkle in his eye, Caleb gives her a considerate smile and engulfs her in a hug, a tight hug that was tight enough she could feel the clothes underneath his black coat.

"You too, Caleb," before the hug ended, one of her hands rubbed his back before patting it gently. Tilting his hat, the man left the tent with a cheery stride.

"I was planning to call on you later once I'm done with this. It's not goodbye yet," Ben softly articulates the last of what he has said. "And I apologize for cursing in front of you."

"Of course, but start working on that, gentlemen in this army do not curse, and you all are gentlemen. You don't need any help with the organizing?"

"No I'm perfectly fine, nearing finished but I have to recheck their order before filing it correctly. I have a little rhythm going," he blushes as his mouth felt like it was babbling.

She giggles and responds prior to leaving the tent as well, "Well if you have a _little rhythm_ going then you know what you're doing. I'll leave you to it."

* * *

 **3** **rd** **Person POV**

Despite the harsh winter cold growing even unkinder the later December gets, soldiers are still hustling about doing something important, astonishingly, unless they were sick, which is where Lillian resides in the infirmary tent with other officer's wives and women attendants. The winter was a time to be alive and alert if one was healthy, and fight for survival if one wasn't as healthy.

"You will be alright, Timothy, I promise you," Lillian tells the young man, who is only seventeen. "You have a mild form of typhus. No rashes, only headache and fever. I'm leaving with you some soap to keep yourself washed, particularly your hands, and keep this rag pressed to your forehead, staying in this tent until all symptoms are gone."

"Yes ma'am," the boy nods his head, but his eyes are shut and he looks as if he fell asleep already from tiredness, and the dosage of medicine she gave him with barely a teaspoon of brandy for the headache.

Packing her things, someone enters the busy tent asking for her.

"Miss Washington," the familiar sergeant of Ben's dragoon walks up to her. She had met him earlier on in the last month when she was ill and visiting some men at one of the fire pits, and he was called to escort Gamble to the makeshift prison.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Sergeant Churchill, madam. Major Tallmadge told me to fetch you, he needs some minor treatment."

She blinks at the request of _minor treatment_ , never imagining the Major to grow ill because he is always robust and healthy. But hold on, she just saw him this morning!

Grabbing her bag, she nods her head to the sergeant, "Take me to him."

* * *

"Major," Sergeant Churchill exclaims entering the Major's tent upon approval.

"Yes."

"Miss Washington is here."

"Send her in," she heard Ben cough out—who is sitting on his cot trying to determine what he has by feeling up his throat.

"Thank you, Sergeant," she smiles to the man who tilts his plumed helmet towards her, reflecting a smile of his own back.

Arriving inside, shivering even after she flips the tent flap shut behind her, she pushes her hood back and sets her bag on his writing chair, looking at her friend only adorned in his golden pants, white hunting shirt, white waistcoat, and white necktie and stock, sitting upright on his bed looking drowsy.

Her heart swoons, and her cheeks blush at having looked at him improperly.

"You do look sick. I thought you were just calling me in here to speak to me about the ring," she smiles at what little smirk he gives her, eyes glinting with mirth.

"Both, actually… I felt feverish and grew a little sore in the throat even before you came to speak to us this morning. And I wanted to tell you I had a talk with your father, again."

"How did it go?" She asks him as she takes her tools to do percussion of the chest, which consists of a small metal plate measuring an inch and a half in length, and a miniature wooden gavel to tap the plate after being placed on the patient's chest.

"Better than our most recent talks, but still harboring some bad will towards me," his hoarse voice begins while unbuttoning his waistcoat, then undoing the strings of his hunting shirt underneath with shaking hands: from being cold, and from partially undressing before a woman. _Lillian Washington._

"He apologized to me, which was a surprise," he sucks a breath at the cold piece of metal she places on his chest, near his heart which pounds against his ribcage at her grazing touch.

"That is a surprise. I'm surprised he listened to me." Her eyes drifted to a part of his upper chest that has been distracting her peripheral vision since she walked in. She didn't look at it until now.

"What's that from?" She asks startled, pointing to his terrible, deep scar on his right upper shoulder near the collarbone; a hole that can hold the very bullet that tore through his skin.

"An old wound. Courtesy of our dear Robert Rogers. I escaped him just barely, obviously. My entire patrol was lost to him," He swallows thickly in anger because of his flashback to the horrible scene, but he is nervous in anticipation as she trails the outer edge of the scar, but only staring at the hole as if it had sucked her heart out.

"Why does he exist… I have something for that. It'll heal it much better than whatever doctor you had has given you, but it won't make it go away completely. Once more skin grows back I can stitch it little by little so it won't be a hole no longer."

"That's wonderful, I'll gladly take it."

If only he could read thoughts, he'd know that Lillian is feeling the same little embarrassment, that she is touching his smooth, bare chest with subtlety defined pectoral muscles causing her heart to beat every split second. But she did not dare let her emotions reflect on the surface in her manners and professionalism.

"You leave in the morning I presume still? Feeling this way?" She asks him after she told him to breathe in and out evenly, as she tapped the piece of metal a few times to hear any lung cavities and lower the side of her face so that her ear can hear anything wrong, and so they can continue speaking.

Ben, meanwhile, stiffens at how close her cheek is to almost resting on his bare chest, and the way she is positioned in front of him, sitting on a stool and leaning over, his eyes look past the broach pinning her cloak around her neck and instead gaze down at the top of her bosom.

"I feel fine, just my body doesn't," he corrects like a little boy sounding a bit downtrodden. "But good news is if I follow his direct orders, and see through my tasks, I will go through his judgment and he will consider my old post as head of intelligence. If I don't do well I'll lose my post here overall."

Smiling, she giggles at his choice of words, " _If_ you follow his direct orders, you sound as if you haven't done so in the past! No wonder he hasn't been treating you the best."

Rolling his eyes he defends himself, catching her eyes when she looks at him and when she isn't his eyes can't help but fall back to her partially revealed breasts, "If it is all the same to you, you don't follow his orders either. At least I do follow through mine in the end; just going about it my own way is the problem."

She clears her throat, "Excuse me, I do the same—breathe—" she tells him as she moves the plate one last time to hear anything out of the ordinary, but she hears nothing and pulls away. "But you have a habit of thinking you have to lose to gain. It works sometimes… You sound fine. You just have a little head cold, none of the ailments afflicting the camp."

"Thank goodness. And I get it, no loss of trust to gain trust. And I won't be going on a Setauket mission this time."

"Instead you're going to steal away Hewlett from an outpost. But what was he imprisoned for exactly? He freed the prisoners from what I recall, he was good," Lillian grows nervous the more she continues to ask on this subject.

"He has been imprisoned for wartime atrocities, which I don't believe to be true for a second. I won't go into any more detail on what atrocity it was than that, it's one less evil thing to know in the world. However, he is the only one to pardon Abe to get him out of prison. Your father has yet to sign the execution order on Hewlett, and since it is about to be expired in the New Year, Caleb and I will make a detour—"

"Ben I'm sorry, but I don't agree with this. You can't be blue coats pretending to be redcoats to steal a British major back from blue coats and at an outpost this time of year! It'll stir up even more fighting. What gives you that much motivation to do that at all?"

"To fix this mess," he looks at her with strong willed blue eyes, as icy as the thick ice caps that cover the Potomac River back home. "To get our ring running again. If Hewlett dies so will Abe, and we'll be done."

"Done?" She questions. "You have Caleb, me, Anna, Freddy—we can get another inside source in the city. Alexander knows someone. Anyone else can get Abe out."

"That is tough, I'm afraid. I'm aware I have you, believe me but Abe travels in and gets the deeper secrets. Hamilton's sources are his own and reports directly to Washington privately, uninvolved with our espionage. You and Freddy scrape the surface, and from that we deem it safe or not."

Tilting her head, Lillian inhales a breath in thought: _Am I not doing anything? Do I even have a part in this?_

"Of course none of it would be safe, none of it is. But we still get it."

Ben caught himself in his mistake at her drop in tone and her frown, and quickly responded while letting out a cough into his arm, "Yes you're right! I meant to say our ring, if we lost Abe, would be tilted off balance. You on your half gets an entire different set of intelligence, which all intelligence is needed about anything—Sackett's number one claim—and I on my half, getting different intelligence. We need each other, if not the scale will break. We can't always rely on Freddy even though he came through this time by a lot. There's so much out there waiting to be found out, and once we have it all we can win."

Lillian nodded her head, "Oh, I see. My apologies for viewing it wrong."

"No it was my fault, I should've spoken clearer."

"You're sick no one speaks clear when they are. It was my mistake."

Ben smiles as he watches her, and feels her rub a slimy salve on top of his old scar. They'd keep going back at each other all day that each of them is sorry, and none would give in! He can say as much as he wants that he has never met a woman like her, and probably never will again. He is destined to live the bachelor life if he is to climb up the social ladder and focus on his work solely and just only, and come this he'd not have a single friend. Caleb would be on his own as well just like before the war.

"What is this?" Ben gags at the odor emitting from the salve on his chest.

"Natural herbs, which range from a variety of different healthy aromatic plants, spring water, and distilled urine. It's safe. I don't make this medicine, by the way. Supplies are sent to me being that I'm a nurse. Certain tasks are regulated for me to do, so, certain medicines can be on my person."

"No need to explain that much I won't sue you if something goes wrong," Ben laughs at her explaining herself on borderline defense. "If you say it's alright, I trust you. Now, about Caleb and me going to rescue Hewlett, there is hope for us yet."

She then smiles, after being serious in explaining about her work. But worry eats at her chest as she returns to her bag, taking a spoon and pours some medicine onto it, "So you did listen to me about having hope."

"I always do. You're my guardian angel. If I may be so bold to call you that great title I consider you as. You kept me sane all this time, and I just now realized that even more before I called for you."

Almost dropping the spoon at his deep compassionate words, she briefly wonders if he has a woman in his life. If he does, he never made any mention of her, which leads to her belief he is single, and she feels rather content with this fact. _No ring on his finger either._

"Maybe I am wrong, you may have a bigger fever growing," she jokes as she shoves the spoon in his mouth, which he swallows disgustedly, lips curling and tongue smacking his inner cheeks, gagging once more.

"If I do, then perhaps you can write a note to your father, saying I have to wait out my assignment until after winter…" _so I can see you more_ , he almost said.

"Ben, shut it, please. You aren't making any sense, and as I said, you can't lose to gain."

"I won your friendship that way, if I remember correctly," he smiles causing her to look at him with big, brown, curious eyes. "Well, more like Caleb lost his mind and wrote to you in my stead wrongly, and I confronted you and confessed it wasn't true—thought by you that I was immoral for the longest time. Then we talked one day, and… we became good friends. One of the best losses I ever gained back was your respect for me then I gained it ultimately. That's how I always get by, it may not be good to many, but for my sake, it is easiest, and I like to think I do it for the better. Sometimes without my control I lose, and work to gain it back every time."

His words very different to her ears, she exclaims with wonder, "I haven't heard nothing like that before. I'm honored you think that of me, though. But please, you sound like you're confessing on your deathbed, do you plan on dying out there?"

"Heaven's no! I wanted to open my mind up to someone other than Caleb. Anna isn't here, Abe I can't even function with him even back when we were children, but you I can. I don't have any sister's so—not that I think of you as my sister because I don't!"

"Even if I was your sister, a brother would never talk to her like that. That's too personal. I have a brother. Step-brother but same thing."

"Then what was it then?" Ben asks her, looking rather clueless himself.

"I have not the faintest idea," she sighs as she goes to pack up her things, but remembers to take a spare rag out of her bag and hand it to Ben for later use on his forehead. Doing so, their hands brush together, and she is urged to hold his hand.

"Write me while you're out there, please? So I know you and Caleb are alive and well. And look out for Simcoe and Robert Rogers, will you? Not that you have those orders and intentions already," She pleads. "If you find Rogers, bring him back alive. Then his fate will be decided."

"I will," he promises.

* * *

 **Ben's POV**

I hold her hand in mine, with not an interest to let go. A small, smooth hand compared to my larger calloused one. I couldn't help but let my thumb gently caress the back of her hand; it is like touching the finest silk ever woven.

"Why?" she asks me stunned, glancing down at my hand holding hers, before her big brown eyes look up at me once more under those long dark lashes.

"Why what?"

"Why are you being so kind to me? You always have. I'm not used to people such as you outside my tight-knit family and servants."

My eyebrows furrow, looking down at her small form sitting in front of me on my cot even though she is taller than most women I have been around, which wasn't a lot I've been around I must admit. How could she ask something like that?

"Because you are well deserved of it. You are kind to everyone you know, a great and rare quality to have, and to have such feeling being on the receiving end of it. I speak for everyone in this camp as well. After you putting up with me and our undisclosed conversations, I _want_ to return the same to you. Even if none of this ever happened, even if you weren't the daughter of our Commanding General, I'd still treat you the same way with the utmost respect, and nothing less," I tell her, watching her eyes glisten with tears making me want to pull her closer, but I fight that feeling away by the hardest I find. It's like being punched in the gut until you bleed and you can't yell for help. _She isn't mine to hold._

 _Yet…_ A more intrepid part of my mind added.

"Thank you. I appreciate it truly. You always say the best," she expresses with a little laugh wiping a little tear that escaped her eye. "I'm sorry you're starting to see me as a very emotional person. Not many communicate with me as you do, nor have taken the time to be a close friend. It's all new ground to me."

 _Close friend?_ I was smiling, and it turns out I whispered this under my breath as she nodded.

"Only the best for you," I say, feeling my chest swell with warmth and admiration at my words and the woman before me. "As I heard you say before, not all tears are an evil. Don't apologize for being emotional, you have a big heart. It is a sign of strength, and it's what you've had all along."

"True," she beams up at me, both of our smiles unceasing. Looking at her smile, my eyes go to her plump lips when she spoke the simple word, and I self-consciously lick my dry lips. I briefly wonder if any other man has ever kissed them— _Of course someone could have, even if it was a stolen one she is a goddess! Why am I thinking such thoughts?! She is a close friend just like Anna!_

Oh but if any other man had kissed them, they must be made of gold now. But… _what if_ any other man kissed her sweet lips? Did the Lieutenant Colonel? I'm sure he has. My mind feels as if it's flying in all directions.

' _Get a hold of yourself Ben!'_ my inner voice demands before Caleb's familiar voice chimes in my mind as well, not helping, ' _Go for it Tallboy, you're both virgins, you're destined!'_ I shut my eyes to shake him and that thought out my head, how irrelevant. Even when he isn't here he is a complete annoying, coercing ass—our eyes locking cause all my thoughts to disappear. Our conversations are so open and free, it's like we had known each other forever. Lillian is a woman far bolder than the meek little girls I have been introduced to in past times, but she is quiet, bubbly and outgoing when need to be, and has a calming presence which is what I found I'm quite fond of.

She had gotten up to retrieve my blue coat, letting go of my hands and pushed the stool away back near the desk, "Always stay professional, Ben. And you look cold, you need more clothes on than just a waistcoat and pants."

I stand up and take the coat from her, slipping it on as I go through the process of buttoning my waistcoat once more. Her hand goes to the buff facings on my shoulders, straightening the silver epaulettes, and I notice the little blush lighting up her cheeks. _Uniforms make all women swoon, this is true._

"Sorry, it was wrinkled up there; I don't like wrinkled clothing. Your uniform is always perfect from what I observe." _She observes me._

"It's alright, thank you."

"Maybe one day we will be able to talk longer without any worries or predicaments. Cross that, _I_ _know_ one day we will be able to. And you can tell me more about you as you promised long ago," she thoughtfully says with a humorous smile as I subconsciously rub my thumb on her silky hand. I realized I'm still holding her hand with a good grip, and blood is rushing all through me, making me warmer..

My thumb stops, "Yes of course. But- I'm sorry. We shouldn't be in here alone, in my tent. I take full responsibility, I'm sorry. We'll have to stick with meeting in public, the indoor office when we have one again, or Sackett's tent—"

"—You needed an examination. You are sick—"

"—If we were ever found like this then we'd never be able to speak or see each other again. Not that we were told that already," I tell her with the dignity I have left, disappointed when her hand drops from my shoulder to lay limply at her side, but not losing her squared shoulder posture.

"We've met like this before, Benjamin, for exchanging intel or speaking of _those_ matters. Why is this any different?" She asks skeptically. "My mother surely won't mind, she knows I… mean well."

"I don't know- it feels different as if we're in a box; it's very warm and almost too…" _close._ I trailed off not wanting to finish it, praying she didn't find my words insulting.

She looked away from my face to look around my adequately spacious tent, "Don't be sorry, I agree, you're right. Perhaps it's because we're in your quarters, this hasn't happened before. I definitely don't want to lose the privilege of seeing you, and I don't want you to risk your position. This would be considered inappropriate by society. I should've known better to speak to you longer than I should have," she reproaches looking down ashamedly which I do not like one bit. "I should have left a while ago-"

Here she goes, rambling again things that aren't true. I tilt her chin up resolutely to have her eyes locked on mine once more, "Yes it would be considered inappropriate by society, but a shame it is indeed to have people assume we were up to no good when we were only having casual conversation, one for _secret business_ at that. Don't berate yourself, ever."

"But was it casual conversation?" She asks after I finish, and my finger stops rubbing the bottom of her chin that I'm still holding up from not letting her look down.

For the first time in my life, I had no words. _This is… something._

"Ben?" One of her hands travel up to my hand underneath her chin, and holds it.

"I- I don't know what it was, honestly. I'd like to think it was casual conversation," I finally find my voice after some seconds. My gaze dropped, accidentally to the pleasant view of the top of her chest from my height and her looking down. Even the fastenings of her cloak didn't block the view. My eyes shift to the ground quickly, feeling heat rise on the back of my neck. ' _Virginia Gold, Benjamin! Some lucky bloke will be lucky to mine her one day.'_

 _CALEB!_ If I had known how much Caleb has influenced my thoughts, I would have had a doctor drill holes in my head to clear any demons out a long time ago!

"I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable, I'm so sorry if I did. As long as it means we'll still be able to see each other and continue our exchanges, like we usually do, they mean the world to me. My task means the world to me, even when things go quiet and dull on my end."

I look back at her, "Of course, they mean a lot to me as well. No! You didn't make me uncomfortable, I'm fine. But I—" I stop, trying to come to an exact conclusion on what is _this_ between us.

"What?"

Gathering my thoughts, "I don't deserve your undivided attention, or do I?" I ask her as if she has the answer to life itself. _This I need to know, to know where I stand._ "Do I deserve any attention I get from you? Even since we're friends? You are your _father's_ daughter, and as you both are alike in many ways, I'm surprised you aren't finished with me as well."

She immediately answers with all seriousness in her voice. I almost thought it was her father's eyes looking through my soul with all formidability. In her eyes, shining like a crystal mirror, I see my reflection and see that I have the same look in my own eyes. She also shows some questioning why I would ask such a question.

"You do. You are well deserved of it. If you weren't then we wouldn't have had our first talk in headquarters that day in the surprise meeting. I wouldn't have forgiven you so quickly if you never shown you were worthy of attention, and I saw something in you that replicated me when you did come apologize to me, and ask why I'm truly here the following day. It's diligence and integrity."

I slowly nodded my head at her words so far, absorbing every one of them like a fish in a dry pond getting every ounce of water it could.

"You are kind to everyone you know, at least in my eyes, a great and rare quality to have in men nowadays. You are no fool like many men are- your position as head of intelligence only proves it all the more, you still have it in my eyes and Caleb's. Anyone who makes me feel comfortable in my own skin, and treats me with the upmost respect, they deserve my respect, honoring, and attention. Even if none of it ever happened, even if you weren't a soldier in my father's army, I'd still treat you the same way with the utmost respect and give you my undivided attention, and nothing less. And I'm like my father, not _him_."

Out of disbelief my eyes didn't blink once while she spoke, and still won't. She repeated some of the same things I said to her making it all the more influential.

"You're—you're remarkable Lillian. Thank you," I tell her, finally coming to a conclusion what it is I feel around her, and I decide to step closer to her noticing she stepped away and lowered my hand from her face after I made the comment on us being 'too alone,' and I take her hand in mine once more.

"No, thank you Ben—"

"Lilly?"

Our eyes widen and snap to the open tent flap where Maria is standing, looking at the two of us. I turn away with a nervous breath, snatching my hand out of Lillian's hand, reaching that hand up to the back of my head, running through my untidy hair still somehow in its queue, and pinch the bridge of my nose, holding in a cough after feeling a tickle in the back of my throat. _I'm such an idiot. I should've said something sooner, parted ways, but I couldn't resist._

"Yes Maria?" Lilly asks her servant evenly.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton arrived hours earlier, and is looking for you presently. He apologizes for arriving later than expected. You must get tidied up again so you two can visit," Maria answers her while eyeing me with a wary look when I turn back around at the request. _Of course, the Lieutenant Colonel. The appraiser in my eyes._

"Of course, you may go tell him that Major Tallmadge and I were discussing the coming spring and his next departure. He needed cough medicine," she tells her, sparing a glance at me. "I'll be there shortly."

"Yes ma'am," Maria says nodding her head, leaving the tent, but leaving the flap wide open.

"I'm sorry. I'll make sure you won't get in trouble, you shouldn't. Write me when you are able on the road, yes?" she asks me hopefully. I barely heard what she said as I'm feeling overwhelmed.

"No need to apologize, you're needed elsewhere," I found myself feeling a sick coil in my stomach at her anxious smile of seeing Hamilton, a good, bright man who is very honorable, no wonder she attained a liking to him over General Arnold. Less prideful by a long shot. But, she held that sparkle in her eyes, only for me, I couldn't help but notice this since I gained her trust. Perhaps I am only dreaming. All light gets captured into her lovely brown, demure doe eyes like stars trapped in their own universes.

"Yes I will write you. As frequent as I can whenever we tarry."

"Great," she says in acknowledgment, pondering my words, I can tell, when she bites her bottom lip subtly. "Goodbye, til' then, Benjamin. Oh and some salve is on your desk."

"You too, til' then," I finally say, watching her walk out of my tent, pulling up the hood of her plum purple cloak and modestly clutching the front of her cloak together to keep warm.

A cold breeze happened to come through when she pushed the flap open further, blowing her own scent, and perfume smelling of ginger right towards me, almost causing me to drown further in my imaginations.

 _This woman will be the death of me._

 _Well at least I'd go with a smile on my face._

After she left my tent and I recovered from my nerves. I floated along the rest of the day lighter than I've ever felt. Looking back, I held it as if she were my permanent dance partner. What I realized is that I have a heart full of love and it is all for her. _Love…_ Every flower, every song, every cloud, every sunshine, every raindrop was a gift from heaven. For this angel had come to take my love. For the first time I felt love, and with all confidence it will be the last because she is my other half. _My everything._

No woman has ever made me feel this way. Now to say it out loud, tell her, it makes me want to faint. I don't know if I can bring myself to. And writing her while on a mission in the wilderness? That's enough to drive any man wild and to write his deepest desires to a woman on his mind.

A year-and-a-half ago, had this sort of 'permission' been granted to me, I would have gladly and quite happily taken quill and parchment and written tender soliloquies, sonnets, poems, anything and everything to win over the heart of a woman I was courting. Since hearing about the death of my friend in college, Nathan Hale, and enlisting into the Continental Army, not to mention the responsibilities that I had been subsequently given with my advancement in rank, all thoughts about a much more calmer and carefree life had been put aside. That had included serious thoughts about women.

That did not mean I enjoyed hearing Caleb brag about the beauty and most generous offerings gracing tavern wenches – (tavern wenches make me want to consume my own vomit)—and their many wonderful assets that had certainly been pleasing to the eye. I just never considered them someone whom was serious enough to win their hand – and I knew that Caleb knew my promise to myself. I hold to my father's teachings, to my own beliefs that the only woman I would take to bed would be the one who accepted my hand in marriage.

Lillian Washington. A woman of greatness, the Jewel of Virginia, a college educated lady, and the daughter of my Commander and Chief-who is the symbol for national unity, a combination of bravado, intellect, and cultured aloofness; he's king-like even without a title. Me, Benjamin Tallmadge of Setauket, Long Island, son of a Reverend, and a Major under my Excellency's command indispensable in every great struggle. I was an ordinary teacher and headmaster before the war and when it began, not quite the eligible man for a lady like her. I'm not of good social standing either to provide for her on my own, yet anyway. I'm a part of the upper middle class in a way, but she is wealthy. I fear it is not enough. I'm not enough.

This is also wartime, and her parents are quite keen on her continuing courting a certain Lieutenant Hamilton who probably has no idea of whose attention he drew so much. And her father has no liking to me currently. How misfortunate is this.

But Caleb did mention her and the Colonel aren't getting along. And they are only courting… A fair competition is fine in those romance novels I hear about in rumor or men's jests at taverns.

 _'Going for the gold Benny-boy.' Caleb winked at me._

Yes she is wealthy, but who am I to know what her money is and what isn't? Her family may just want to marry her off and give her no money, she is adopted after all. But her parents aren't cruel, and remembering now they want her to marry for love. They are thoughtful, loving, and caring. I was raised thinking a man should supply and provide for his lady that he won the heart of without being forcibly paired together—I shake my head. I'm thinking too deep, we're not even courting! And we may never…

Oh great. Something else I don't have experience in, courting, even if a "fluke" happened. Add that onto the list with trying to win a war and protect my friends, my spying friends and strangers I don't even know and will never know. Lillian is considered one of those friends. There is no time for love during war—my personal vow.

I sigh loudly, looking at rag Lillian left me to dampen and place on my forehead myself, which I drop in the washbowl now, and ring it out before slapping it on my face. I can't let it get to me. I am refined and dutiful, and must finish my duty before I can think about love. She'll meet someone else I'm sure, during this war, unless she and Hamilton work out. Her parents have already taken the initiative to introduce her to higher ranked officers; someone better than me, and better for her. I am too focused on my friend's safety, duty to this country, and making something of myself. Also, she sees me as nothing more than a close friend in this Culper Ring.

 _Her big, brown eyes looking up at me... "Anyone who makes me feel comfortable in my own skin, and treats me with the upmost respect, they deserve my respect, honoring, and attention. Even if none of it ever happened, even if you weren't a soldier in my father's army, I'd still treat you the same way with the utmost respect and give you my undivided attention. You are well deserved of it."_

I rub my thumb and forefinger together, imagining feeling her small, soft hand in mine giving me a strength I didn't know I lacked. And her smile always filled a huge cavity in my heart. Her smile is all I need and want.

Then the peace flowed into my mind and veins.

Like my father always said, one never knows until they try. A Tallmadge never gives up on what they want—what they _need_ —they work and try their hardest to get it. They will somehow get it in the end.

I have made up my mind.

I'm fighting for two causes now. It is now only a matter of surviving both of them. I find myself anxiously waiting for the next time I see her, alone.

What have I got to lose?

* * *

"Hello father, you wished to see me? And… Alexander," I say lastly because I just noticed he was standing behind my father. "Hello, William."

"Miss Washington," William smiles kindly towards me.

"I'm sorry my sweet, but personal matters came up and last minute business I regret to say has been put aside for some time needs to be attended to. I meant to speak with you, perhaps tomorrow before noon will be better. I promise it'll be sometime tomorrow," my father's face actually looks disappointed and his eyes glum that he couldn't speak to me. Something important, perhaps. And personal matters? His worries are becoming more evident in his mannerisms yes, but what else is disturbing him? _Strange._

"Of course, father. I understand," I answer, nodding my head gently.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton has returned, as you see," my father turns to the young, handsome man beaming towards me, "He returned from outposts in New Jersey and Long Island to gather information on their defenses, supplies, bodies, and state of health. Intelligence has also come his way, which he will inform you in a secure place. I've given permission, due to how long you two have been courting—a month and a half, and due to the freeze; he may socialize with you with what time he offers now until sunset in either Mr. Sackett's old tent, or the Lieutenant's personal tent which I personally recommend. Since we cleared most of Mr. Sackett's things such as proper seating and have taken canvases down for other tents, Hamilton's tent is more insulated and has chairs. Would you agree to this, my dear?"

Ignoring an interesting pang in my heart, instead I enjoy the feeling of fluttering butterflies in my stomach and answer with a delighted smile, "Of course, father. Sir." I nod my head lastly to Alexander who grins attractively towards me out of the vision of my father.

"Well. You may," my father sighs, sitting down at his desk and waving Alexander on to escort me out arm in arm into the cold afternoon… to his tent.

* * *

"Are you sure you are comfortable with this? I can gather up a couple men and add some canvas slips to Mr. Sackett's tent if—"

"No, really. It's fine. I just agreed to it didn't I? I would've spoken up if I felt strange. You do know I know when to speak my mind," I smirk, glancing off to the side at every man walking about either carrying firewood, food, blankets, and firearms. A group of blue coated men are even practicing their firing at this chilly time of day before the sun sets. It is probably best, better than night that's for sure.

"Indeed you do," Alexander nods his head as he answers knowingly. "It's why we get along so well, my love."

I feel my cheeks sting red at his endearment even though they were already stinging before from the biting wind.

"Aw." Some man walking past commented, seeing my blush, which makes my right hand shoot into the pocket of my dress and wip out my fan which I unfold immediately to hide my blush.

Laughing, Alexander takes my fan out of my hand, "Lilly! It's freezing, there is no need for a fan!"

I giggle as well, pulling my hood more inwards, "You're right, it's just instinct. I have my hood on which is enough."

"I pray you're not embarrassed around me," he comments with a swallow but looking at me with worried eyes. "If so, what for so that I may fix that?"

I shake my head, feeling terrible he thought that, "No I'm not embarrassed. Never. Do not fix anything; you are fine just how you are, love."

Both of us blink at my use of an endearment, surprised at this new… development.

Shyly I add, "Just let me know if anything about me embarrasses you."

"Which is nothing," he answers immediately. "I only told you a month back how it isn't right to speak up in front of other men and to try controlling it more, but it didn't embarrass me. Let them think whatever they please."

Here it goes again. There's sentiment in his voice, but I still feel hurt. He was embarrassed.

"Well, I _fixed_ it. While you were gone."

We stop moments before we make it to his tent, which is the same size as Benjamin's, and he takes both of my hands, squeezing them tightly with regret of his words shining like icy snow in his eyes and pale face, "There is nothing more that needs fixing. You are wonderful how you are, know this Lilly. I'm sorry my words have hurt you I never meant to."

I nod and motion for us to continue walking to get out the cold, "It's fine I suppose. Just let me know if anything about me bugs you then we can talk more, we must talk in order to move forward."

"And last," he adds with a thoughtful smile.

"That too," I smile back at him, watching him look straight ahead once more before I drop my smile and glance at my surroundings once more seeing if anyone is watching us—and of course they are.

We finally come to a stop in front of his tent, and he leads me gently in front of him, placing the back of one of his large hands on my cheek caressing it.

"Believe me and trust me when I do say nothing about you should be changed. Nothing about you should be changed, and I won't change you. You are the first woman I ever courted, and I love you so very much. I'm trying to be the best."

My eyes tear up at how choked up he sounds as if about to cry, but his eyes—It's always the eyes on anyone one comes across in life that has their true intention in them or hidden in them—and his eyes hold love. This time I'm sure it is.

"Me too. Perhaps I overreacted just then. It is meant for people to change sometimes. Everyone has faults, they may not consider them as such but others do. As a couple and if we want to last," I place my other hand in his down at his side and squeeze it, "we sometimes have to make some changes, but other times we have to accept our faults and just love one another as they are—"

His lips on mine silence me, and my hood falls back from the slightest movement because of his hand on my waist pulling me an inch closer, and the wind that chose to pick up then and there.

~()~()~()~()~()~

"Well I'll be, maybe they made up," An onlooker near Benjamin exclaims, as almost every man in camp watches the Lieutenant Colonel kiss Miss Washington with no care who watches. He definitely knows what he has and wants to show her off, who wouldn't? Every man knows the orphaned man's poor story, and now he has the heart of an upper class woman—a wealthy lady—a gracious symbol for America? The man stuns people every day.

"He kissed her, he sealed the deal."

"Or they had nothing wrong to begin with."

Benjamin looks at the courting couple unsurprised, but he still had a look of heartache and longing no matter how much he forced an uncaring facade.

Caleb saw but looked away with a shake of his head, thinking of his words from earlier with a pensive face.

"He's blessed to not only have her, but to have survived this far with what he has been through," Sergeant Churchill exclaims, putting the last of the extra parchment they would all need for their trip starting tomorrow. "Providence is on his side and Washington. And with his rising rep, and her already affluent rep—they'll be powerful partners one day."

"Partners?" One of the men cackles with other men, heading back to their fire pits for the day.

"You mean business partners or bed partners, eh?"

"Both are the same to me."

"I couldn't think of the right word, Thomas!"

Benjamin swallows bile at their chorus of laughter. In another time, maybe, he would've laughed with them for some humor in his dreary time here fighting and possibly cared not for what escaped his lips. But this was the real time. He was a man with a representation as well and professional. And when he saw them part and him lead her into his tent, his heart raced with envy, hurt, and wish.

"It's like a fairytale," one of the younger boys exclaims, petting his horse before Derik takes it away to be tied up for the night.

 _But fairytales aren't real._ Ben thinks to himself as he walks back to his tent to stay out the cold for as long as he could to not grow sicker before his mission.

 _I'm real. And she is real._

 _Undoubtedly real._

 _And I have a chance._

~()~()~()~()~()~()~

By the time I responded to the kiss, we parted, and he quickly lead me into his tent to be out of the eyes of the public.

"Showing off?" I giggle aloud at him pulling a chair from a cartable writing desk and pulling it to behind his larger work desk.

"Moving this little thing about without breaking a sweat or the kiss out there?" He laughs, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Both, I suppose."

"You suppose," He responds with a raised brow. "You've been saying that a lot lately."

I watch him set the chair down behind his desk, and he places both hands behind the back of it, looking at me fondly.

I shrug innocently and break out into a laugh, "I suppose."

"Suppose no longer, love," He walks back from around his desk and comes to me, placing both of his hands on my face drawing me in for one quick kiss before taking my hand in his and escorting me to my designated chair. "Come. I have missed you and we don't socialize face to face often, which I apologize."

"Do not apologize for what you can't control. We have now, and I'm sure many other moments in the future."

"Always," he plants a kiss on my forehead lingeringly, then taking his seat next to me and taking my hands in his.

"Now, tell me about what you did, and what intelligence you uncovered."

After I asked this I listened to him speak for hours on end, and I found myself not minding at times, and bored sometimes. He gave me my chance to speak, and asked politely how my time here has been while he was away.

But once sunset struck and I was being led back to my tent, I found myself not remembering most of what we said other than the intelligence he received, and a couple of his many kisses either on my lips, cheek, hand, or forehead.

And I don't feel right. My mind strayed off the whole walk back, and kept me awake all night.

"There is someone else for me out there, isn't there? Or am I going crazy? Am I worried about my future? _Our_ future?" I think of me and Alexander together forever. But now it is not as clear as it has been the night we met at the ball, and our letters, and the beginning of our courting.

 _It'll all be well, don't you worry, darling. You will make it right._

The memory of Maria's words replays in my mind, and finally lulls me to sleep.

...

..

.

 **To be continued next chapter :) Ben is aware of his love for her. He is ready to do whatever it takes (aw Benny boy). Of course, being real life, there is always drama and a problem. You all read the longggg chapter (I hope, and not skipping to Ben and Lilly moments) and know the problems Ben faces, Lillian, and the entire ring. The more I think about, write, then type this story, the more real it gets even if Lillian is an OC. The story keeps getting more detailed, and more twists in the plot come to mind. Her presence affects everything. Thank you all for those who are still reading. Please review, and stay tuned :) Love ya!**


	27. Chapter 27: Providence and Problems

**Chapter 27: Providence and Problems**

Benjamin Tallmadge and Caleb Brewster long since departed ways from the entire troop—Benjamin giving the valid excuse he was to check on the Continental Outpost of the Connecticut 5th Regiment and their current in command, Lieutenant John Chaffee, who is holding Major Edmund Hewlett as prisoner on trial for wartime atrocities. The unit suffered a profound loss when their Captain McCarrey was murdered by the enemy (believed to be Major Hewlett).

Now riding side by side in silence after some days speaking about the troop's future stops, then the weather, then it leads to bored conversation while being on high alert of their surroundings. Their diligent pursuit of making it to the outpost on time to free Hewlett has proved smoothly thus far. They had to hurry so that the men wouldn't hang Hewlett without a pardon if it hasn't come in from George Washington by now.

Being in the blinding snow in some parts of the freezing bare woods, Caleb and Ben would stop for short instances to have a food break and regain warmth by sharing a blanket with their horses next to trees. Ben, however, would take the time to write as many letters to Lillian to make up for the days he is out in the wilderness without a messenger near. When he was on the way and made it to Boston to "appraise," he wrote five letters in total—three written with deep rooted tenderness for Lillian's person and informing her no sign of Rogers or Simcoe. The other two was his report for General Washington solely.

The two he has written since his journey with Caleb begun, are poems laced with fond adoration which he will send to her once he is with a messenger again, for now they remain tucked inside his coat, close to his chest.

 _"You need help writing one of those?" Caleb smirked at his friend who wrote with a shaking hand covered by his cloak, both of them sitting on rocks. "I'm good with the 'comparing thee to a summer's day.' "_

 _Ben glanced at him with a frown, "I think we can agree my words are far better than yours were years back."_

 _Caleb raised his hands in defense as he finished an apple and tossed it to the side in a pile of snow, "That was passion from years back. I tried. I've changed."_

 _Ben rolled his eyes, "It is love I feel for her not passion. For now I am only her close friend, but I am still a respectable gentleman. I will win her heart by showering her with wonderful words. I can't rush things. Earning her father's respect as a Major and Head of Intelligence is my first priority over earning his blessing."_

Finally approaching closer to the outpost, Ben spies some blue lying out in the snow which worries him.

"Hold on," Ben rushes his horse forward to look closer only for his heart to drop at the sight. He races to the outpost with no one attending to who enters because that man is lying dead, frozen, and so is everyone else. Blood splattered on their bodies, some with even deep cuts from swords or bayonets across their face.

He jumps off his horse, not caring what is taking Caleb so long to arrive, and runs to the few of the prison houses made of logs that remain standing.

All of the doors flung open, there is no sign of Hewlett, but he does recognize Lieutenant John Chaffey, with a hole through his chest and his hand holding a blood covered paper.

Ben goes to the man, and all at once he prays in his mind for the lives lost and their warm refuge in heaven, and reads the paper… from Washington… Pardoning Hewlett…

"Dammit, no!" He then sees a handmade wooden cross near the tree line, marking a burial with fresh soil piled above the buried body.

Walking past the eight, perished comrades near him in sorrow, guilt, and dread for what name he is bound to see on the cross, if there was one etched, he prepares himself for the worst.

Clutching the hilt of his sword on his left hip, he comes face to face with the cross, and falls to a kneel in disbelief of what his eyes are reading:

 ** _Maj. E. HEWLETT_**

 ** _The Devil Incarnate_**

With numb hands he unstraps and takes off his helmet in respect, and gripping the letter tightly with rage, sorrow, and confusion. Many theories of what happened were going through his mind.

"Tracks lead south," Caleb calls over to Ben as he jumped off his horse and walked to the logged prison near him and tied his horse up. "Maybe fifteen or twenty men but it don't look like no regular army to me, you know?"

Ben runs a hand across his face at a loss of thought, inhaling sharply through his nose in disappointment for the transpired events that probably could've been avoided if they got here sooner.

 _It had to be rangers. Bloody rangers that's what. Simcoe. I know._

Ben comes to a stand and looks off to the tree line, as far as his stinging teary eyes can see with a clenched jaw, and experiencing an adrenaline rush to throw his helmet at something.

 _Why did they do it? They got the letter! It was either too late or they still did it? Or Simcoe killed him?_

 _-They're all dead I can't ask anyone!_

"Tallmadge," Caleb walks closer to Ben, restating what he just announced since he got no reply. "They went south."  
The dark clothed man blinked twice at the crushed look Ben turned and gave him.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter," Ben's voice broke mid-speaking almost into a sob as he made his way over to his friend, feeling the wind brush past him blowing his black cloak backwards. "We were too late."  
"We were late?" Caleb raises a brow in shock as he fusses back. "No, we were lucky. What, you wanted to turn up in time for all of this? The Lord's watching out for us, Ben."  
Ben looks away from Caleb's horse, and faces him with narrowed piqued eyes.

Caleb continues, watching Ben's mouth twitch almost to a tight smile, "It's like that word your father used to preach about. What's that word?"

"Providence."  
"Yeah, Providence."  
Ben's face falls back to the same defeated face, and with a sneer he shoves the letter into his friend's hands trying not to burst into cries.

"Look at that. I found that on the lieutenant there." Ben steps away and gestures to all the dead men lying on the cold earth and raises his voice with ire, "Turns out, Washington decided to pardon Hewlett after all, but the day before these poor _bastards_ executed him!"

Pacing back to his wide-brimmed hatted friend again, biting his lower lip, his head doesn't cease nodding, working off the adrenaline rush, "And in doing so they've all but signed the execution order for Abraham in New York. _God, huh? God's watching?_ He's laughing at us!"

Caleb shakes his head the entire time at the worked up major. He doesn't blame him, partially, but he needs to keep his head and not be so sensitive. One would think he'd be stronger than this by now. The whaler admits to himself he may be not as strong as Washington is—completely neutral about everything and uncaring— _scratch that, we're all human we do feel_ , Caleb corrects himself. He feels sorrow about Hewlett and the fallen soldiers, but it's no use crying over it. Losing the last of his family, his Uncle, was the hardest loss to cope with, and that's that. He's through with tears and loss. It's a time of fight and win, now, for everyone's own good.

"Hey, Abe isn't dead yet, all right?" Caleb reminds Ben, who keeps turning his back to him and facing towards him roughly once more.

Ben faces away from him, not even bringing himself to look over his shoulder feeling so overwhelmed with emotions, "Without Hewlett's word, Abe will hang."  
"Three days," Caleb suddenly bursts.  
"What?"

"It'll take three days for news of this to reach New York at least."  
"Yeah, so?"

"So we've got three whole days to get into the city, break Woody out of jail, and haul his ass back to safety," Caleb explains with ardent refusal to sit and watch Abe go.

"Yeah, three whole days," Ben scoffs.  
"That's right."

"Because it only took us three months to properly infiltrate a man onto the island in the first place, right?"

Caleb steps closer to his friend, getting in his face to retort back with the same self-defensive face, "Yeah. Well, that was your plan. This one's mine."

After a moment of thought, and regaining a mental strength once more, Ben turns his face to his friend who had gotten onto his horse, and quickly untied the reigns from the logged prison house.

"Where are you going?"

"Leaving this frozen death pit, there's nothing for us here."

"We need to assess the damage done and lives lost—"

"Damage has been assessed," Caleb turns his horse and waves a hand in gesture to all the dead decaying bodies. "We'll count the bodies on the way out. At least you can, I'd lose count after getting lost looking at the same blue coats."

Ben rolls his eyes for a split second, and questions once more, "What's out there for us then if there's _nothing_ here as you so say?"

"Morristown, Benny-boy. Part of my plan, which is more important than this if we mean to save Abe's arse."

Ben goes to his horse, nodding at his friend's words, "Fine. When we pass up the dragoon I'll have my sergeant come assess the damage with scouts."

"There you go. These poor gents are going anywhere for a while."

Ben shakes his head, refusing to look back at the fallen men, because after having done so one too many times in the past, there's no point, and it only raises the sorrow in his soul. Nodding at Caleb, they both motion the sign of the cross.

All he can do is pray for them, himself, and ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness from God, and Washington.

" _Gents_ you said? Not _poor bastards_ as you say," Ben brings up with a smirk after they made it a few leagues away heading back to the troop.

Caleb winks back at him, "Lillian is an inspiration for us all, Benny-boy. I said I've changed, didn't I?"

Leaving Ben at a loss of thought, he stares for some time at his friend who sped his horse up until finally tightening his own reins and following suit.

* * *

The month of January never was Lillian's favorite month. It is the time for a fresh start, and looking forward to being another age older, which is still on her good side for now, as, if a woman continues growing older and still has no husband whilst showing no initiative to find one, they will most likely end up alone and have many dreary new year's. But she has shown initiative of late, and she is courting Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Hamilton. She will turn just twenty-one this year, which is still within a 'youthful' age to be wedded. Twenty-three is at most the limit as pinned down by society.

As dreary as this may seem, she tries her hardest not to let it fog her mind because she knows she'll be wedded one day, even if it takes until she's past twenty-three to find her soul's match. She knows she isn't the only one. That is a lot of thought and hope to cling to, then so is this war.

Therefore that little hope pales in comparison of hoping to win the war. Every patriot clings to a lot of thought, hope, and faith.

However, this month didn't seem so dreary to her as she woke up every morning with a smile since Ben's letters have begun to arrive in the mail. Not only he eased her worries of him and Caleb's safety, but Ben's choice of words seemed more tender than he let on, and this piqued her entire interest in him all the more.

His first letter had read:

 _Miss Lillian Washington,_

 _My lady, fellow agent, and my closest friend, I write to you from the road on way to Boston with a quivering hand. From the cold, and from not being able to tarry long in a place, by reason of the British Light Horse which continually patrolled this intermediate ground. Indeed, it was unsafe to permit the dragoons to unsaddle their horses for an hour, and very rarely did I tarry in the same place through the night. If I did, it was to write you. Perhaps I am nervous as well, hence my still shaking hand. With regard to the ring, I also write you to calm my senses and to assure you I am well. Writing and speaking to you is one of the rarest wonders of this world, and I mean that it is a wondrous feeling as I do so recall telling you twice before. Two times too many._

 _My duties are very arduous; I have never considered Head of Intelligence as an even greater arduous duty and challenge of my grit and willpower. But, just as every honorable man in my wake and back at the encampment, they all suffer through this arduous time for the better and good of us and the U.S. The better and good being Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happyness._

 _While I carry the same belief, I must confess once more to you as I'm feeling as if I'm freezing to death, that you are my better and good I'm fighting for. I do not intend the possessive meaning saying you are my better and good, as you are no one's property or owned, but I mean it in terms of an equal. Equal with a diligence mind, and a delicate demure heart._

 _Your heart beats with mine as I lead my dragoon to a safer tomorrow and it will not cease as long as I'm walking and sharing this earth with you._

 _Your rather bold, fellow spy, and friend,_

 _B. Tallmadge._

His words make her feel a sensation like no other. No one speaks to her so rich and velvety the way he does. _So fine…_

Sometimes, she thinks selfishly, that he is only himself towards her and no one else, which isn't true—friend wise that is. But… a possible lover, which she believes he is implying, sends her mind in a whirl and heart racing. She can't think of any theories or come to write any response, not that she can because he is on a mission, and only orders are to be sent his way.

She smirked to herself every time she thought this. It's playing _hard to get_ perhaps. Yes, this thought lightens things up. Let him wonder.

Oh, but Alexander Hamilton, the wonderful man she is courting. She isn't seeing Ben behind his back in terms of love, at least yet.

Yet…

 _There is a problem._

Now, this January morning and forward, is the only problem that comes across her mind as she stopped receiving any letters from Ben. Choosing Alexander or Ben if it came to it?

 _The love triangle_ … Mr. Sackett would say if he was still here. _Amor triangulum_ _,_ spoken in Latin, is probably more like it.

 _What a cliché archetype_ , Lillian thinks whenever the 'Alexander or Ben' question comes to mind. Also, the novel _Evelina_ by Fanny Burney in which early in the novel, Evelina earns the attentions of two gentlemen at a party: Lord Orville, a handsome and extremely eligible peer and pattern-card of modest, becoming behavior; and Sir Clement Willoughby, a baronet with duplicitous intentions. Maybe this isn't the perfect comparison to Alexander and Benjamin, as none are deceitful by any means or snobbish. They are both handsome, modest, and have becoming behavior.

Oh, but the novel and Evelina herself can be compared to Lillian and her life almost too perfectly! Evelina embodies the desirable traits for the women of this generation, as does she. And although Evelina is called a social "nobody" by the fop Mr. Lovel, other characters have high opinions of her… Lillian was called a social nobody in the past, and by suitors who most have not received a reply to their letters of interest, and family members and past visitors who have attended their parties as well, but there is the small bunch that has high opinions of her… Lillian's headache worsens the more she thinks of this novel, and the more her heart accepts she is just like every other woman in this time, if it not already had accepted that fact.

Alexander she knows through and through, and she knows his entire story in rather vivid detail, making her shudder at what depression and rough-patches he's been through more than her and what else lingers in his brilliant mind.

Benjamin, she knows nothing of his background or story, other than he is the son of a Reverend and from Setauket. She only knows him as the Major of the Second Continental Light Dragoons, and Head of Intelligence; a strict, serious, business friend still learning the ropes to attaining a greater respect from his superiors and her father.

He is even more interesting, now that she thinks deeper. Since day one he held her curiosity. Whether the fake letter was sent to her or not, they still would've met because Providence led them together. God place him in her life's path for a reason: To win the war together and have her hand in history? Attain a best friend? And/ Or to have his love as well?

She decides to keep this from Alexander, but if he came across a letter from Ben, she would tell him that he may have some competition.

And this will not only put Alexander to the test for his love for her, but she will continue getting to know Ben, at least when he returns… hopefully before spring.

Til then, she will stay at her strongest, and not become someone like Pamela or Evelina as she goes about her days while Ben and Caleb are gone doing laundry with the officers wives and daughters who have offered their time mending clothes, knitting socks, and treating the ill.

She befriended an Oneida woman named Polly Cooper, very different much like herself. Polly continues to stay with us to teach the troops how to prepare white corn, which needs a different cooking technique for digestion when they are very ill, or have light stomachs from not eating as much as they should. In addition, Polly helped her aid with herbal supplements and medical care that she never knew, and she taught her things she never knew… especially about blood and how bloodletting should be avoided.

But at least for a breath of fresh air, she'll be sitting by the fire on evenings with Alexander after walking around the encampment to ensure everyone's wellbeing, and striking up even the simplest of conversations here and there.

* * *

 **Morristown Headquarters**

"Thank you, Larsen," Ben dips his head to the man he met last fall who was assigned by Mr. Sackett to carve the boat for Abigail's son.

"You're welcome," Larsen responds just as curt, opening the barn door and closing it shut for the only two men allowed to be in this barn.

"I thought that Mr. Sackett moved all of his devices to Valley Forge?" Ben reiterates following an eager Caleb inside.  
"Mostly did. But not all his treasures could fit in his wagon. Including…" Caleb pauses for effect as he beelines to the large covered object, and rips off the tarp sending dust flying everywhere to reveal a wide barrel with a rusted metal top, and a smaller single barrel attached at its side.

"…our way into New York Harbor."  
Ben couldn't believe his eyes, finding the contraption vaguely familiar or similar to that of others from his younger days in college, "My God, is this—"

"Yeah," Caleb's eyes glisten with the same awe if not with more fervor in his gaze as he knows his plan will be all involved with this. "Davey Bushnell's underwater machine. _The Turtle_ , he calls it."  
" _The Turtle_?" Ben shakes his head with a quick outdrawn breath, his left hand clasping the pommel of his sword at his side out of habit as he walked forward and his other hand went to touch the wooden barrel. "I knew Bushnell at Yale. I can't recall much about the man other than stories that he exploded kegs of gunpowder on the Mill River."  
"Like the one you're touching now?"

Ben's hand slowly removes the two fingers he placed on the glossed barrel to stare at his friend in disbelief.

"150 pounds of powder fired by a gunlock. You see, you yank that there and then a watch-work timer, it ignites the magazine," Caleb touches the rope line as he explains. "Then you got 10 minutes to row away before it goes _boom_!"  
"My God," Ben still takes a while to comprehend this is a movable underwater transportation contraption. _This is something da Vinci, alright_. "I thought that Sackett wouldn't let you touch this thing."  
Caleb's mouth breaks into an innocent grin, "Let's just say I grew on the bastard."  
"Yeah, I'm sure you did. How on earth do you navigate this while underwater?"

"Ah," Caleb turns back and walks to the white table-clothed table. "Ben Franklin suggested to Sackett to coat the gauges with foxfire. You know, from dead trees. So now the compass glows in the dark. And I'll be damned, Benny, but it works."

Ben eyes the pistol in the whaler's hand, and turns to look back at the contraption in deep thought:

 _Travelling in an explosive barrel, tight conditions, no light, underwater… Going to New York harbor to rescue Abe with a great chance of dying while doing so. I can't let him do this alone. Besides, as we talked about the ring on the way here, we are done for, but not Abe, yet._

 _There is little chance I'll be granted my position as Head of Intelligence back, but Washington's words did sound not as disdainful about my past actions. There's some hope. But if he finds out of this while I was supposed to be leading my dragoons the entire time, it probably won't end well._

 _Then there will always be Lillian's efforts with her growing connections. She has been starving to get new information and meet new people. I just pray she will always stay on her father's good side._

 _Oh Lilly._ His heartbeat rings louder in his ears and breaks out into a nervous sweat feeling quite overheated in this musty barn. _She won't like this one bit. She won't like hearing that we perished on what was supposed to be not only my assigned tasks to complete this winter, but my mission of redemption. But maybe we won't die. Ten minutes to get away before it explodes is enough time to escape it and run afar if it goes according to plan. Risking being captured is the ultimatum now that I think of it._

 _She knows the risks we all face. Besides, just as I told her in my letters, she is the better and good I am fighting for. If this means to get Abe out, and a chance of the ring still going with my own absence, then it would have been worth it._

He felt as if he had stabbed his own heart, knowing he may not see Lillian's face for a long while. The sound of a blade being slipped out didn't help any. He glances back to see the bayonet attachment to the pistol Caleb is holding, eyeing it with eagerness.

As he assesses his last thoughts, he turns to Caleb, "All right. All right, well, I'm coming with you."

The other man's face lost all grinning and enthusiasm as his beard covered mouth parted like fish, and guilt shined in his eyes, "Sorry, but it's a one-man craft. Tight as a fish's arsehole in there. You can ride along on the whaleboat if you like as it tows me into harbor, but once we get close-"

"Wait, if there's only room for one, then how the hell do you get Abe back?"

"I said it was my way into New York, Ben. Never said it was my way out."

"No, Caleb, I'm sorry. I can't let you do this alone."  
"That's all right, Benny. 'Cause I ain't asking your permission. Our little spy ring might be done for, but Abe is still alive. And you know I'd do the same for you. So let's get that bastard in the water."

"But-"

"My orders, Ben. This is my plan."

Ben bites his lower lip disgruntled, not through with their discussion just yet, but he nods his head despite and goes to leave the barn, "I'll go round up some more hands. Larsen knows some trustworthy men to handle this I'm sure."

"Of course they're trustworthy, Washington wouldn't have left them behind here to watch over headquarters if it weren't so," Caleb shakes his head at Ben who isn't thinking clearly now—hell he hasn't been thinking clearly since he started this whole spy ring idea! He—well really they are both young men but grown nevertheless, and they are all learning as they go. Ben's second guessing is no excuse, however, no matter how safe he is trying to play. Some things can be done quicker than three months, like the plan Caleb thought up in a mere minute. However, in this time of limbo, Caleb believes his mind has matured more on this subject than Ben. Even Washington can see that, he wasn't given the title Lieutenant for not.

Shaking his head once more, not meaning to throw Ben under the bridge in his thoughts, he goes to set the pistol done with a clank when something round and metal rolls off the table. Since it is dirt, and he didn't hear it fall to the ground, he looks around until a shiny bullet catches his eye near the leg of the table. It's the bullet from his uncle's neck which Lillian had given him after fishing it out. He had lost it before he left for the 'hidden note in the bust' mission.

Not only anger and revenge towards Simcoe fills his chest, but a spec of tenderness thinking back of Miss Washington giving it to him with huge, sorrowful eyes, on the whaling boat as they secured the prisoners and her from Setauket last year.

"A piece of you is always everywhere, Princess," Caleb sighs, shoving the bullet in the inside pocket of his long, black overcoat as he walks back towards the barrel thinking of the woman who had befriended them all so quickly that it felt like she'd grown up with them in little Setauket since they were children.

Taking a moment to look around, hearing no sign of Ben or any man returning, he begins removing the blocks on the ground holding _the Turtle_ in place.

So with this thought, he continues mumbling to himself as if he is talking to Lillian, "I'm doing this for you too, just as you know I would. Don't get angry though, because anger doesn't look good on you. It's terrifying."

With a heavy breath, he stops for a breather and decides to leave one of the dense wooden blocks where they are and wait for the extra hands, "Crying too. I'm not worth getting teary eyed over Lil' Washington. A smuggler, a whaler, a long sexy beard that tickles the ladies—and it's unattractive to some. I'm not the model citizen. Just… I don't mean to pour my heart out to you, Lillian. I'll miss you that's all."

The barn door creaks open and groans as Ben and six other men walk in to help with moving the Turtle. Caleb let out a sigh of relief, both at the men and that he had spoken words off his chest he has been meaning to for some time. Just like Lillian is always on Ben's mind, she is on his mind as well, and because she isn't mentioned in their talks doesn't mean she isn't involved in almost everything they do.

"This will make a nice explosion," Caleb overhears one of the men comment, making his heart drop at his last thoughts of Miss Washington which terrified him to his core.

Letting out a shuddered breath and avoiding Ben's eye contact, he exclaims loudly, "Indeed. Alright boys, nice and gentle now, and don't pull the rope! Sackett's last words to me were ' _do it right or not at all_.'"

* * *

 **Lillian's POV- Early February**

Just when my nightgown slides off, the entrance to my tent shifts, and I let out a sharp squeak as I grab my nightgown and turn to an angle to cover my lady parts.

"I'm here, Miss! Maria is with your mother. I've been assigned to you once more," Ashley, my new appointed handmaiden and lady in waiting enters my tent allowing a faint, chilly breeze to blow in.

"Oh thank goodness it's just you. I was worried it'd be Alexander catching me at an indecent time as he joked about doing last evening," I respond, sitting back down on my cot shivering as I wait for Ashley to unloosen the strings of my corset before putting it on me.

Young Ashley loses her smile a tad, and looks to me questioningly, "I don't mean to pry, but why would he joke about something like that, Miss?"

I smile at her sweet voice, and her calling me Miss when not necessary, "Oh he meant nothing by it. He's courting me, and in a camp filled with nothing but men and already taken women, I'm sure him saying that 'catching me at an indecent time when I'm at my most vulnerable would not only raise his spirit in lifeless times, and be astonished by my glorious feminine beauty, but he will feel the way he was intended to live as a man by his woman's side.' "

"Uh huh," Ashley looked appalled and uncomfortable at me repeating his exact words.

"He's sweet, Ashley, and at times rather strange like me. He merely laughed afterwards."

"Very strange, he is. You not so much," Ashley looks away with a strange face which piques my curiosity.

"Thank you; you'd be the first to say such. What do you think is strange about him?"

She laughs nervously as she comes forward to me, and I drop my nightgown and she begins dressing me.

"Well, it's not like I watch him, or you and him I should say when ya'll walk around or sit by the fire. But he acts different around men, and then different towards you."

I hiss at the tightening of my corset, "Not so tight now. He is a man Ashley and a Lieutenant Colonel, he is supposed to act different with his male counterparts as I am a lady and courting him. That is what opposite genders do."

"I get that, I see that all the time. But he is very different than those men who act normal around other men. Does that make sense?"

"No," I answer. "There is nothing wrong with how he acts. He had a rough childhood, and still to this day has a rough life. He never had a father figure, only a mother for a short while."

"I'm not trying to start an argument with you, but I just wanted to tell you so that you are conscientious of his actions next time you see him. Maria told me about how communicating is hard between you both at times."

I shake my head, processing her words, "It's fine. Thank you. I'll try noticing how he acts more around others and help him I suppose."

Ashley only laughs at my response sweetly as she helps me into my cream white lawn robe a l'anglaise delicately embroidered with tiny green leaves and vines, and red flowers. The tiny pleats, dense pleats and fitted back on the anglaise makes it one of my favorite dresses for regular wear, but the made makes it look fine.

The rest of the time her being here, we remained silent as she pinned up my hair into a smooth, up-do, leaving one wavy lock to lay across my shoulder.

For some reason, I felt even more anxious now than when I first woke up. Dressing elegant is always an indescribable, breathy feeling, but with the thought that I will be seeing Alexander for most of the time today, it had me thinking of a lot.

Ashley's words will stay in my mind to watch him until I find no reason not to keep an eye on him.

"Lilly," I hear my mother say, poking her head into the tent.

"Yes?"

Smiling, she beckons me outside, "Come see. The Marquis has returned!"

Jumping up from my seat, lifting my white cloak onto my shoulders with a pink silk ribbon to tie with, I hurry to the flap of my tent and stand by my mother outside in the cold, watching my father talk to Marquis de Lafayette! And he is walking just fine! I'm thankful my treatment worked for him back in Bethlehem.

"Mrs. Washington! And my dear Lillian," I hear Alexander call over to us from my father's large tent, which he leaves and walks towards us across a patch of snow with an overjoyed smile I had never seen him adorn before.

"Is this what we think it looks like?" My mother asks him once he reaches my side, and looks to her.

"An alliance between France and the United States of America, yes. Marquis de Lafayette has arrived safely to give his message that will change the very course of this war to even closer to winning," Alexander relays to the both of us, and in doing so, his fingers reach to my hand, and our fingers intermingle sensually making me fight to hide my blush.

"This is wonderful!" I can't help but emit a loud with matching immense happiness with Alexander.

"I'm so happy you went to help the man. You got him walking again!" my mother laughs happily, but ladylike to only where Alex and I could hear.

"Oh yes, I forgot you had told me of that. I have only written to him once, never have I made an introduction to him yet," Alexander says looking across the way at the young Frenchman, who is no more than nineteen.

For more than a year, apart from two militarily insignificant but symbolically critical victories in Trenton and Princeton, my father's army had succeeded only at evasion and retreat. The depleted forces were riddled with smallpox and jaundice, there was not enough money to feed or pay them, and the British, emboldened to dream of an early end to the war, were on their way toward Philadelphia with a fleet of some 250 ships carrying 18,000 British regulars—news that my father had received with this morning's breakfast, which Alexander was previously at taking note, and I was supposed to make a small visit to say hello to the officers and speak to my father afterwards, which was twice more put off.

Before I can form a reply to Alexander, my father turns back to us with tears escaping his eyes, and a smile on his closed lips and shining eyes renewed with immense hope that this time no hope will be lost to him. I return his smile feeling suddenly choked up. This is what my father needed.

His servant William had informed me how my father acted the night he decided to pardon Major Hewlett, that he had 'lost his mind' even thinking he had lost all morality and his teeth—which bewildered me that he had a delusion of his bloody teeth falling out into his hands. He had problems with his teeth for some time, which is why he has his mouth forced shut most of the time or lips over his teeth like an old man. His teeth are past any cleaning now, and I have no skill in dental practice other than keeping them clean whenever and however I can. It's indeed sadder for a man to ever go through the pain of not having a nice smile.

But that aside, it was my father's confusion which got me pondering. Confusion over Abe—Culper—Charles Lee—and Benjamin. After all I had told him of Benjamin, what does my father still not see? Why can't he trust his words? His words on Charles Lee, everything? Why can't my father love him? Love.. _Hush, heart, I'm thinking._

William didn't relay it word for word to me, only the medical parts, and the doctor which had seen him to check for any illnesses—that my father failed to tell me! It is no wonder he has been so private of late, and quiet.

"I will love to introduce you to him, unless my father takes it upon himself to do so first, as he holds you in such high regard and gratitude so great."

Alexander looks down at me, before blinking away nervously, "I would love for you to as well. Seeing as we are not needed of the moment, Mrs. Washington, with your permission may I escort your daughter to my tent during my moment's break?"

"Of course, need not ask anymore. I'll see you for tea, dear," my mother lastly says to me with a smile.

"Yes mother."

* * *

 **Sugarhouse Prison, New York City**

 _"He don't look like much, sir, but he's a snake in the grass."_

 _"Thank you, Warden. I'll take it from here."_

Abe catches the profile of the redcoat facing the wall, with a swell of joy he hasn't felt in a long time.

Caleb adorning a white powdered wig turns around, clean shaven, grinning ear to ear that he made it this far and has not got caught!

"Huh?" The disguised whaler holds his hands out, twirling once in the shiny officer's boots and red-tailed coat, then taking Abe's face in his hands to continue in whispered tones, "Look at you. Look at those whiskers!"

"Where the hell did yours go?" Abe responds just as quietly holding back a laugh.

"Mine came off."

"What are you doing here?"

Caleb sets a hand on his shoulder, and leads him to the door, "What do you mean, what am I doing here? I'm here to save your bacon. You're walking out that door today, huh? Right through the city gates and all the way to Valley Forge."

"No," Abe pulls back in a hiss.

"What?"

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean you have to go," Abe corrects himself.

"What? You have—shh," Caleb warns Abe from getting too worked up and loud.

"No. No," Abe shakes his head in disagreement.

"What, without you?"

"They still think I'm a Loyalist. I've maintained innocence and my story."

Caleb stares at his dirty, reeking smelling friend in surprise and despair, "Abe, but—"

"—And when Hewlett gets traded back and he writes to them, that story will be intact. You have to go."

"Listen, Hewlett is dead," Caleb is finally able to say.

Abe freezes, "What?"

"He's dead."

"Are you…Are you certain? Are you certain?"

Caleb holds up his hand, pledging, "I stood over his grave."

Abe lets out a disheartened sigh, hanging his head low, this time letting his friend grab his shoulders—whether to hear him explain further or lead them out back to the real world.

Caleb begins, "Now look, we rode out to Connecticut to free him, right? We did all we could. Washington even wrote the man a pardon, but it was too late."

Now grabbing his face once more, Abe looks into his friend's eyes, raising up his chained hands to his own chin to pull at his shaggy facial hair.

"Now look, Culper is dead. But you don't have to be. Now let's get out of here. Come on," Caleb rubs his shoulder in motivation. "Come on."

"No!" Abe bursts with a loud whisper, tearing out of his friends hold roughly, spinning back around to face him.

"What are you doing! Abe-"

"No, no, there is still a chance."

"Did- did you—did you not hear what I just said?" Caleb pulls his friend closer by the shoulders once more, this time with a firm grip, worried if his time of isolation got to his brain.

"If they were going to kill me, they would have done it already. This place, this prison is a business," Abe explains his position in his tone that Caleb, Ben, Anna, and Lillian know all too well.

"Alright," Caleb pulls back his hands to place them behind his back, and walks in a pace with a tight jaw and impatient mouth, licking his dry lips feeling cold without his beard, trying to hear his friend out.

"Yates gets a stipend for each person that's in here, but it's not enough to turn a profit. So for that, he relies on family gifts, bribes. Mary, she sends provisions, cutlery, guineas every week like clockwork. So if I die, so does his revenue, all right? I'm not even sure if he's told the commissary that I'm even a spy yet—" Caleb cuts Abe off shoving him the chest, causing Abe to fall against the wall with a loud thump.

Caleb holds a finger up at Abe, continuing in a whisper not meaning to have caused that much noise, "Do you know what I had to do to get in here?"

"What the hell are you doing? I didn't ask you to come here," Abe stands tall and grows even more irritated at Caleb stepping closer inch by inch, getting in his face to spit at him in a raised hush.

"I shaved off my beard for you, you ungrateful _shite!_ "

Too close for comfort, Abe bends down, picks his hidden knife out of his boot and holds it to Caleb's neck, "Well, you missed a spot."

"What are you doing?"

"Washington pardoned Hewlett," Abe spits back. "That means that he still holds out hope for me, for us. And now that the French have joined our cause, the British will relocate their headquarters to New York. Our operation is needed here now more than ever. Do you understand?"

With mouth set in a thin line and a daring, irritated face, Caleb mutters, "Lower the knife. I'm not making Lillian dig in any more Brewster necks."

Abe pulls the knife back a safe distance from his neck, so Caleb is able to lightly shove Abe back, who was already stepping back to begin with making him stumble.

"Now you listen to me, Woodhull. If you do make it out of here Tory bona-fides and all, there is no way Samuel Culper can skulk around in New York in the future."

Abe ceases scratching at his beard to answer in all exactness, "That's why we need a man here. I've already told Ben about him."

"What, Townsley?" Caleb recalls.

"Townsend. His name's Townsend. He owns a boardinghouse in the Bowery. I left my bag there before I was arrested."

"All right, slow down," Caleb interrupts.

"Hidden in the bottom of it is a sealed letter Lillian 'sent' to me claiming her working with me, and her father's forged signature and hers, to prove that I was honest on my word we work under Washington and so does she. I forged the entire letter with the help of one of her past letters so it looks convincing and will convince him. Also a vial of invisible ink. You need to get that letter and ink to him. You need to show him how to use the ink."

Caleb's ears rung at the woman's name, hating how she got involved in this plan spontaneously—possibly before the events of Sackett's death—where she is risked being exposed- _hold it one moment._

"Her alias was used? Kennedy—"

"It's invisible!" Abe reassures him. "She admits she is daughter of Washington, and her alias is on there. In case they ever came across and knew how react. I had to convince him to help."

 _Now I have to go and burn that letter after this Townsend lets it all sink into his skull_ , Caleb thinks to himself.

"What if he doesn't take it? None of it?"

"You're gonna have to convince him. But I know this man. He is the answer to our problem. And Culper is not dead!" Abe adds, pointing his knife at Caleb as he speaks with teary eyes. "Neither is our ring. _It's just not completed yet_ ," Abe finishes lastly as his hands shake, the cuffs and chain clanging together, looking absolutely mad, desperate man, but hopeful.

And that look is enough for Caleb to agree to Abe's decision and plan.

"Just stay alive, Woody. That's all I pray."

"Will you convince him?"

"Yeah. Whatever you say," Caleb answers, working up the fake mask and 'British' words to make his appropriate leave.

* * *

 **Lillian's POV – Alexander Hamilton's Tent**

Pouring some wine into a glass half way for me, I take the time to read one of his numerous reports of the strategic reform and restructuring of the Continental Army out of admiration for his exhaustive writing, which also must be actually exhausting to write.

"You're in a cheery mood of late. It is special and sweet for me to see you so," Alexander tells me kindly, walking over to hand me my glass.

"Well, my recent patients have been recovering well, and of course spending time in the evenings with you make my days extra special," I respond simply.

He hums at this, finishing pouring more wine into his glass and taking a sip before he joins me by leaning back against his desk in front of me as I sit.

"What if… in the future, of course, would I still make your days special as your husband?" Alexander asks out of the blue causing me to reprocess his words, and lower the papers down to my lap.

"What are you talking about? Are you about to—"

"No! Oh no, not yet, Lillian. I have yet earned your father's blessing for that, and I feel our courting hasn't gone on long enough. I meant just in general. I've been entertained by such thoughts for a while," he pauses to take a sip of his wine and clear his throat. "I would just like your opinion on me, if you will. Do I deserve your grace in my life?"

The haunting words reminded her so much of Benjamin! He said the exact same… _Oh Ben. Alexander… I suppose this is where I mention his competitor?_

"Why would you think you don't deserve my grace in your life?" I ask him instead.

He shrugs, shaking his head as he turns his torso to set his glass on his desk carefully. Then he turns back to face me, clasping his hands in front of him diffidently, "The thought of love from another always frightened me I suppose. As you know, I never had a father in my infancy, and my mother perished only when I was ten years old. Ten! I was forced to grow up even more so than I wanted to. When I'd make friends, 'lady friends' at the local parties that my landlord or sailors held, mind you I was never around ladies until such crude parties that were below my level of elegance and manners, I'd not say the right things to them, or they were all over me—and I wanted no part of them."

I straighten in my chair at his new admissions as he rambled on. This was a side of him I didn't know until now.

As I continue listening, Ashley's words sit in my head.

"But you were ten," I reach my hand out to his hand to comfort him sensing his discomfort, causing his golden epaulette shoulders to relax in their sturdy posture.

He smiles looking down at my hand as if my touch would be his undoing, "I know. But what I didn't know was love as I remembered what it felt like from my mother, and what it's like without it. Such as fatherly love that I craved from any man older than my years. Women stirred an emotion in me as they came and went walking past me, naturally, and like now I feel our hands touch and sensations like no other. I keep my happiness independent of the caprice of others, but towards you, I feel as a man should."

I line my lips together, "You sound scared. I'm sorry I'm the first one to make you feel this way all of a sudden."

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, before covering my hand in his with his other one, warmth radiating off of him, I feel, every second.

"I'm not scared. Only…" he trails off at a loss of thought, which is startling. "I'm lost when I'm with you. You are after all my first love."

I stand up, my right hand still in his, and I set my wine glass on his desk with my other hand before I set it on his shoulder lightly, for the moment we are equal in height as he is still leaning back against his desk.

"I must say, I feel the same, Alex." Before I could explain my feelings, he ends up speaking instead, sparking a fire in his eyes.

"But we don't. My heart beats for so many things, Lilly, it is why my mind is everywhere at once thinking of all these 'brilliant things', and my mouth is always speaking when it shouldn't, and my hands are writing with a heart of their own. It is a wonder I'm even still alive in this poor world," he falls short and his breath catches as my hand touches his cheek gently. He is making me want to cry!

"Times I feel as if I'm not good enough."

"You are only over stressed, and think too much. You shouldn't. And you are good enough! Please, don't hurt yourself in that way. You have me, my mind, and my heart to help keep you going in this _wonderful_ world you _wonderful_ man."

"No other woman speaks to me as you do," he says slowly, taking my hand from his cheek and places a lingering kiss on my knuckle. "I am lucky to have met you, and took such an immediate liking to you and not another man for once."

My eyebrows furrow, _another man?_

"Well, this woman is on your side. I'm here for you, and will do whatever you ask me to," I inform him sweetly.

"No, don't give me that right, Lillian. I have half a mind to tell you currently to not give any one that right. You are not meant to be someone's item!"

 _Well, I sort of told it to Ben already… But not in the risqué manner he is implying!_ In speaking of him, yes, it's been a month since Caleb and Benjamin left, and no recent word from Ben has arrived to me personally. It was a serious duty, _long and arduous_ as Ben stated in the beginning. Perhaps appraising the status of Boston's men took longer than thought.

I giggle shyly, "I didn't mean in the inappropriate manner, Alex. I meant with special deeds to complete… My, I lost my functioning half of my mind, thanks a lot. You befuddled me."

His chest rumbles with laughter as he pulls me close and places a kiss on my lips gently, pressing them like soft, rolling waves back and forth every second, slowly.

"It was my mistake, I apologize," he says during the kiss, which to the both of us, we feel it escalating to new heights, and I find myself being careful, cautious, curious, but loving the feeling all the same.

To try something different, and test waters, I break the kiss to kiss his upper neck, and after just a peck I felt him swallow thickly and barely whimper.

"Lillian, can I ask something of you," he hesitates still holding my hand tightly. "Please don't take it improper, or think little of me. It is something I've wanted to know what it's like."

"What?" I look at him.

"A woman's touch. Your touch on my person makes me feel a sensation like no other, as I just said. But to feel your hand," he slides my hand down and holds it above his pants. "here… A touch. I want to see if it clears my mind and help me, without taking things any further than they already have."

I swallow thickly now, finding myself not really repulsed by this, but confused and chillingly nervous. Who in their right mind would ask the woman they are courting to touch them… down there?!

"Alex. You don't think so little of me, do you?"

"No! Of course not. I'm the one who thinks little of myself when I'm with you. You are all I have after this war is finished over a sea of men in Congress-"

"Lieutenant Hamilton, sir," my father's servant William enters the tent at the wrong timing, _or is it perfect?_ , bowing his head quickly. "You are wanted presently by General Washington, once more, to speak and keep note. I apologize for the interruption."

I pulled my hand away from Alexander's breeches the moment I heard another voice, and the man himself straightened, no longer leaning back against his desk.

William looks to me pointedly, and my eyes silently thank him which he returns a knowing glance.

"No it is fine, you interrupted nothing important. In fact, Lillian, I apologize for my earlier words to cause you any stress. Speaking to you made my day all but brighter."

I smile to him, "I'm happy I can do that for you. Now go, it's best not to keep my father waiting."

"You'll watch her, William?" Alexander asks him.

"Of course."

When Alex left in that moment, I let my nerves take hold, and I shake as I reach for my glass of wine to take a small sip.

"Miss Washington, are you alright?" William comes forward to my side concerned, hands unfolded from behind his back.

"Now that you are here, and got him out of here, yes! Thank you. My father is always timely unintentionally, or a servant, for that matter when something is about to happen to me. How on earth I don't know."

"My lady, what was about to happen to you? If I may pry?" He asks me with large nostrils inhaling deeply.

"Something I wasn't ready for, yet, in terms of our courting which," I pause listening for anyone outside to not hear, "I fear will not last, sadly, yet I'm rather relieved."

"Those are a lot of emotions you have. That isn't love, I know," William puts in.

"I know! You're not the first to tell me, and none of this, even love isn't what I should be thinking! I'm not focusing on gathering intelligence as I should. Once Ben returns, I need him to find me something to do, if not I'll take it upon myself."

"Well now that you're thinking clear, somewhat, let me escort you out of here and back to your tent. I know your mother would like some time with you," William says gesturing me to leave, which I comply with a nod of my head.

* * *

Once we're outside, we walk side my side, and I inhale the cold air that burns my nose as I bundle my white cloak around myself tighter in the biting wind. I forgot gloves when I got dressed earlier.

"How has my father been?" I ask him, knowing he'll answer honestly.

He smiles plainly, before dropping it, "Not ill at all. Quite serious on taking back Philadelphia currently, and French and American ships blocking the British from entering. He's definitely not as stressed as he was those other nights, especially that _one_ in particular."

"He had a change of mind, for certain. I wish he would've asked for my help, his own wife even," I say quietly, watching what I say in public.

William shakes his head, "He didn't want to scare you. I do know this, he is still thinking of you even when he isn't asking of you. Perhaps tonight will be different; we're supposed to celebrate with a parade of sorts, and canon fire. You may have a moment to speak then after the officer's dinner."

"A parade? How nice! I have never seen one before. It'll boost everyone's morale!" I smile, silently cheering to myself.

"The American and France alliance. It's worth celebrating."

I let out a laugh at this, making men around us at the moment smile, "Have you heard?" I ask them with an upbeat voice.

"Have we heard of what, Miss Washington?" The bundled up boy, tall and thin wearing bits and pieces of uniform clothing, inquires. Men in this camp, every camp, steals from one another, including uniforms, socks, boots, canteens, and cloaks. The aiding women are only able to make socks and blankets out of scrap fabric, or the donated wool and cotton from those for the good cause of this war.

"The French are aiding us now!"

With mouth agape he takes off to men who probably haven't heard to circulate the word.

 _And I'm waiting for the right moment to tell Alexander it is over between us!_

Yikes.

I try suppressing the negative thoughts, because it is not yet time for such actions, and think on a greater serious note, "William, can I ask you if you know something? Maybe something my father is keeping from me?"

"What may that be?" He asks, glancing to me on his left, but we continue walking toward the big tent with eyes focused ahead.

"Do you know when Benjamin Tallmadge will be returning? I have received letters from him in the past, only five at most, and I know he reports back to my father, which my father speaks none of it to me. I was curious if you knew something."

"I wish I had an exact answer, but I do know soon. Before winter is over. He doesn't speak about reports to me or aloud when I am there at times. Is Benjamin a part of the 2nd Light Dragoons?"

"Yes," I answer with a nod of my head.

"Then that was the one last report I heard of them. They breached New Jersey a day ago."

I calculate the math in my head, "So you got the letter day before last, that means they should be here any time now! It's four days to Boston which is where he said he was going. They should have long since crossed the border of Pennsylvania."

My heart jumps at the happy thought of seeing Ben and Caleb again, both of my friends walking back into the camp, or riding in, and then I will be updated on the ring's current position, and if Abe an Hewlett have been freed!

"Miss Washington, before you go any further and enter the tent. I want you to know something," William suddenly says.

I stop with him before we get any closer to my tent, and look at him to continue, "What?"

"Your father may not trust your judgement at times, with Benjamin in particular from what I know, but he is definitely not in his right mind lately. I've been watching him with General Arnold and Lee."

I narrow my eyes at their names, "What does he do around them?"

"He listens real intently, but in the end he always trusts them. Not saying he trusts them exactly, but what he gives them permission to do. Bradford is also a problem, he's with General Lee and plotting against him, two men Benjamin don't trust neither do I."

Shaking my head, I sigh gloomily, "There's nothing I can do about it, I'm here for myself now. I can't do any justice of keeping two strange men away from my father or speak some sense into them. My father would have done so if he had proof of this. You're better off telling Ben only. I'm the last my father wants to hear from right now, especially when we just gained the French allies."

We grow silent when some officers walk past, going to my father's tent, and they bow their heads towards me as I bow back with a polite smile.

"Look I know how you feel about Ben," William blurts after the officers were gone, making my eyes widen. Perhaps he worded it wrong?

At my look, he continues, "I was there the day your father appointed him as Head of Intelligence, and that was a special day for us all, though minor to many eyes. Ben was appointed for the position out of pure respect, and well, the man is smart. He spoke at many meetings and dinner parties before General Arnold came along, and he had your father hanging off of every word. His ideas, his reports on his dragoon.. to name a couple."

"You're… exaggerating," I mutter under my breath.

"Ask Ben, then, when he returns. I'm not talking behind your father's back for any of this, but know I worry about his recent choices. I need you to watch him closely when I can't, because I can't fathom what would happen if things go wrong," he finishes with a whisper. "And with Ben no longer Head of Intelligence, I fear it all the more to happen soon."

I put my hand on the dark man's shoulder, "Don't harbor any guilt, for anything of my father's doing. If I know Ben, he won't give up on us. You do your job well, and keep my father in line where you can. Thank you for telling me."

He only bows his head silently, with the smallest of smiles as we turn away from each other, and part ways.

The remainder of the day, I sit at a small round table with my mother and Catherine Greene, the wife of General Nathanael Greene, and drink coffee as we speak about the camp, the French, then it lead into the French fashions and the other materialistic things in life.

Mrs. 'Caty' was very pleasant and kind with energetic mannerisms, like mine, but hers much more gestural.

"Your mother has told me of you and Alexander," she wiggles her eyebrows. "When is the ceremony?"

I shake my head negatively as I feel a hotness cover my face in embarrassment.

Laughing, the two married women shake their heads at me.

"She is not sure yet, Caty. Sure or not, her father and I just fear what other suitors would think of her the older she gets. We want her to marry for love, but if things don't start happening…" her mother trails off. "We're looking out for her future because if she inherits any piece of land one day, she may not be able to afford it."

I share a sad but confident look with her, since we have had this talk many times and have spoken recently about matters of the heart.

"Oh pish-posh with the age defining what you are, and who and what you want!" Caty exclaims a loud, causing my hand holding my teacup filled with coffe to shake, the bottom of it tapping the saucer. "If you're marrying for love, then wait as long as you want."

"Did my ears hear what I think they just heard?" I set my coffee down and sit straighter at her exclamation.

Caty turns to me, youthfulness alight in her eyes, after all she is in her early twenties much like I.

"My dear, we are very much alike in thinking and attitude towards the world, people… men."

I let out a light laugh.

Continuing, I listen to her next words intently, "Men are fickle. My Nathanael is the definition of it. I dreamed of spending cold winter nights with him right after we married, I was nineteen. Cold nights, reading to each other by the firelight, surrounded by our children… but the war came and he was called for duty. It's not like we didn't have much time for ourselves, we courted since '72, I was twelve!"

"Twelve?!" My mouth parts astonished.

"Yes, like the real French ladies in France," she chuckles bringing up their French conversation. "Some of the nobility marries off their children at that age still, the man being older, of course."

"Nathanael is thirteen years older than her," my mother says towards me, and I try to force a polite face at this surprising fact.

"If I may ask, you don't fear about losing him? Him being older?" I quietly ask Caty before she can say anything further.

Her lips press shut, and her eyes glisten with such confidence, and her body with poise I never seen on a woman. My mother and I even are confident, yes, but Caty gave an all new meaning to it. _Revolutionary._

"Love knows no age. Nathanael had not a care in the world for any other woman, and I had no care for any other. I was twelve when we met, him in his mid-twenties, and we became the greatest of friends before anything went further. A well-to-do gentleman is what he is. He made me who I am today, and respects me as such. For his death, which I cannot dare to imagine, but I do picture it before mine, and I married him with this thought. He told me many times to not worry over this crucial detail in our relationship. So, I trust him, believe him. No matter how independent I may be, I still count on him to make the decisions and take charge."

I smile towards her with tears pricking my eyes at her pure love for the man, and how her story bears close resemblance to mine with Ben. Not Alex. Ben. My mind's eye went straight to the image of Benjamin Tallmadge.

"Making your friends late is what you're thinking?" Caty's smooth voice cuts in. "No such thing. Everything happens for reason."

"Correct," I nod my head and reach for my teacup for a much needed sip of coffee to perk me up from my impending talk with Alexander.

 _"So correct."_

 **A/N: Lillian's life in Valley Forge... almost more than a month without Caleb and Ben! It's driving me insane much like it is her, haha! She's been in a mild form of depression lately, thinking of not only her job in the ring and acquiring new intelligence, but her future as a wife to a lucky man... Any guesses who, obviously? Well, not that I don't love Ben and her together (they are crazy for each other and will be together next chapter!). But with how Caleb has been acting, can any of you see her and him as a couple? Just a penny for a thought.**

 **Caleb rescuing Abe was my favorite part of season 2 next to the Battle of Monmouth. He looks good clean-shaven ;) And Monmouth was was one of the few victories of the Patriots, and was a defining part of the actual war and of course the TURN series.**

 **Polly Cooper! She was an Oneida woman helping to heal soldiers during the Revolutionary War, she'll appear next chapter (as a main character perhaps?).**

 **Catherine Greene! Lillian has found a friend, a lady friend, what are the chances lol. Never have I thought my OC to be similar to Caty Greene. Caty will reappear here and there since she stayed with her husband throughout the war wherever he went.**

 **Alexander Hamilton... he had an interesting moment with Lillian.**

 **Brace yourselves for the next chapter and get your mind's eye ready to visualize the return of Benjamin's tight yellow pants.**

 **Thank you those who followed and favorited! :) It gave me a power boost to update this today. The next chapter will be up by this Friday, or the weekend the latest. Thank you to those who are still reading!**

 **Stay tuned! -BrownEyedGirl87**


	28. Chapter 28: The Prodigal and Promises

**Chapter 28: The Prodigal and Promises**

 **Lillian's POV**

Dressed in my darkest color dress, a navy blue l'anglaise with blush pink ribbon-laces on the white stays, I sit at my dimly lit vanity early in the morning with all my nursing tools out—and phials of blood from patients who were sick during the winter storm 'which tried all men's souls' as my father eloquently put it.

Finding I couldn't sleep, much to the thought of ending the courtship between Alexander and I, and being told the news by Maria that Benjamin and his dragoons have returned last night!

My stomach is churning out of excitement, ache, and fear at the effects of matters of the heart flung on my plate unexpectedly. I never thought I'd be the one to end a courtship that was all fine in the beginning.

 _Perhaps it could work? If we just talk?_

 _No it can't work! I can't be myself, I can't stand watching him write, and I can't envision a future! No matter how kind he is, brilliant, handsome…_

Sighing almost too loudly, I close my mouth as my mother slowly wakes up from her cot, and Maria begins prepping her for the day ahead.

"What are you doing, my dear?" My mother asks me as she is being dressed.

Not turning around, continuing staring at the blood on my current plate in front of me, "I am finding signs of blood poisoning. I found it strange men in separate parts of the camp caught the same infection at some point during the cold."

"Why would they be poisoned?"

"Someone must've cooked poorly, or drank something they shouldn't have that wasn't clean," I answer as I eye no change in the blood's color after adding powders and a dye.

"Should I be worried about this and issue a warning-"

"Oh no. There's nothing to tell. The men are fine as far as I know. The doctor oversees many of the worse ailing men. I'm doing this out of curiosity," I finally turn around and explain to her. "I'm done now."

"Wonderful," she smiles after her elegant drapery has been placed on her, and now she sits on a chair as her hair is done up in a tight bun. "We can go meet with the women doing laundry and cooking, and after come back here for the day. Our time is running out here."

"I'm sorry, but I have a personal commitment. See, I'm visiting Alexander.." I trail off and watch her face fall and take up realization.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you cannot love him for all time?" She asks sympathetically, her dark eyes boring into mine.

"I'm sure, mother," I answer as I stand up to put my plate in a washing bucket, and watch the blood hit the water, and sit on the surface as it spirals and thickens like ink to water. The water gains a pink cloudiness.

"Just be kind and polite while doing it, I'm reminding you."

"Yes mother…"

"Do not worry Mrs. Washington, she won't stay single for long after this," Maria comments knowingly and I blush, the same color as the bucket of bloody water.

 _Maria you gossiping gitty_ -

"I believe I know what or _who_ you are insinuating," I look at my mother's mischievous reflection in the mirror in front of me as I put away my tools with stiff hands and arms. "But if I say his name, she'll throw a fit. Or George, if he comes in at this hour. That's more likely to happen."

Actually letting out a giggle, but no humor whatsoever, I voice, "Like father like daughter. But lately not so much. It's growing up I suppose."

Even if Benjamin and I are able to sort our feelings out, and find out if he returns them as I do, my father stands in the way of us ever being 'officially' together properly. On a far serious note, in the back of my mind, I pray my father will find Ben suitable for me and give us his blessing for courtship and other things to come… _such deep thinking at a time like this, but necessary_... but if not and still holds my dear friend in such contempt, we'd elope after this war. I'm not against this.

"He loves you Lillian, he is just so busy," my mother stands up and reaches for her cloak just when I reach for mine after cleaning up. "He means well, and aches to speak to you too."

"It's fine. It bothers me no more. I have you, Maria, Derik, Ashley… personally. And Caleb and Ben as my outlets from the life of a Washington."

"How are they doing, by the way?" She asks as we walk out the tent with our two life-guards with tall, furry helmets and sharp bayonets, separate from my father's guardsmen, following us to wherever.

"I don't know."

* * *

After parting ways from my mother and the guard in front of Alexander's tent, I enter freely not seeing him in here, which is unusual of him to not be writing at this hour.

Despite, I take off my cloak, and set it on the back of the chair in front his desk, and look at his neatly stacked papers, with a letter and red wax and seal-stamp catching my eye, and it looks like a letter from Hercules Mulligan, who he has been receiving intelligence from. Perhaps he was in the process of responding and was called for something important.

All wax seals, wax to make the seals catch my eye… _They are enclosing secrets_ , is what little me used to think. And for the most part, it is true.

Deciding to look closer at it, my mouth frowns at the manner of the first written paragraph:

 _Cold in my professions – warm in my friendships – I wish, my Dear Laurens, it were in my power, by actions rather than words, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent of the caprice of others. You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility, to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it, and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on one condition; that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me. . . ._

Gasping, sharply turning away, I place a hand to my forehead at his implications towards this 'Laurens'.

 _He can't be cheating on me. This woman… Or is it a man? It feels like he was writing to a man.._

Sure men write fondly to each other, when they are close friends as I've been told, but never have I witnessed such a connection or read a letter such as this. My mind is whirling with thought, and memory.

Ashley's words… Could this be what she meant how he acts different? Perhaps he is like my hairdresser and spy, Freddy.

"Ah, Lillian! What a surprise to find you here," Alexander's voice breaks through the air, and I turn, not helping but smile at his sweet voice and words. "Normally I come and escort you here when I'm free."

"Yes, but today I couldn't wait. I hope I'm not disturbing you. I was going to wait only a minute more if you didn't show."

He holds up a hand, a smile so bright his cheeks burn, and leans over to place a kiss on my cheek, "No, you're not. I'd rather appreciate your company at this time. I need but not to write reports on the meeting I've just been to with your father and the other generals. It has me in suspicion."

I raise a brow, eyeing the letter on his desk as he turned away and went to sit behind his desk, "Suspicion of what?"

"Lee apologized to your father for ever having doubted his leadership.." Alexander slowly says, being careful with what words he repeats.

I straighten in my seat, "I've never known the man, but Benjamin told me of his… quirks. It's just now settling in my mind that he didn't respect my father in the past."

"Need not worry, my love. It's an apology and he bettered himself. Now, I apologize, because I need to get this done quickly before we assess the board of our army's placement. You may speak as I do," he adds lastly, before taking a quill and dipping it into ink.

My heart tightens inside of me, and I break out in a cold sweat. _I can't do this as he is working!_

 _But I must do it. I need to clear this part of my life out._

 _Focus, Lillian. Focus on myself._

* * *

Waiting outside on this overcast day, leaning on his right leg, and left hand placed on the hilt of his sabre, Benjamin stares down at the dark soiled ground rejuvenated from a good night's sleep in his own tent, and prepares his report to Washington when he exits his tent after a meeting.

The soldier cleaning out the canon behind him, clanging the large piece of metal turning it causes him to look up and see Washington and his servant and life-guard walking his way. Well, down the center path cutting through the camp, that is.

When approaching closer, Ben begins walking with large steps seeing he is in a hurry, because he must speak to the man about many things.

"Sir," he walks up to Washington, whose guardsmen are following close behind, but the Commanding General does not acknowledge him, continuing his march.  
William steps in front of Ben, staying behind to explain to him, "I'm sorry, sir. He won't see you."

His eyes follow His Excellency's steps with such incredulity it is almost a scowl.  
"Does he still hold me in such contempt? He won't even meet my eye."

Forcing his eyes away from his Commander, he turns abruptly and begins to walk back towards his tent before setting out to find Lillian, who he knows she hasn't left yet since it is not spring yet. They have much to discuss as well.

"Wait," William calls out to the Major, who turns around with a curious and questioning gaze. _I was told everything, enough, already. What more is there?_  
"I never done this before, talk behind his back, but he been through some rough times and I worry about him."  
Ben steps closer, greatly concerned, this he can't deny no matter what mood he is in, "Well, what is it, Billy?"

"The general, he just gave General Lee half the army. Gonna go attack the redcoats while they retreat."

"Half the army?" Ben's face tightens at such information. It's practically every man they have for such an attack!

"Are you sure?"

"Didn't hear it with my own ears, I wouldn't have believed it myself. I know you don't trust that man, and I don't neither. But the general, I think he was fooled by his apology," William finishes, replicating the same look of disbelief just as Ben.

"Lee apologized?" Shaking his head, he looks the dark man in the eyes with secrecy.

"You were right to tell me this, Billy. But whatever you do, don't tell anyone else."

* * *

After staring at Alexander write for some time, and merely telling him her discovery of men being poisoned for small talk, Lillian gathered up all her courage and words and began to tell him the truth.

"Alex, we need to talk, together."

"Sorry I'm so engulfed in this. The silence with you and hearing you speak in golden song is rather pleasant. You're the only one in this camp who doesn't give me orders," he remarks with a kind smile before looking down. "But what would you like to talk about?"

Collecting her breath and hesitating, she watched his smile drop to one of worry, "Our relationship."

Tearing his eyes away from her to dip his quill into the jar of ink, slowly, before scribbling on his sheet once more, "It's not what I asked of you to.. _do_ to me in my tent? I knew it'd make you uncomfortable-"

"No, it isn't that," she forces what she felt was a blush rising in her face away. "I feel things have changed, and I've come to be… a distraction of sorts to you." _No that isn't it! Come out with it Lillian!_ She hears Patsy's voice scold her in her mind rather than her own.

Alexander remained silent, still writing and continuing to dip his quill, he made no reaction to her words.

Thinking he didn't hear her, or wasn't paying attention, she repeats a bit clearer and a notch louder, "I think I've come to be a distraction to you. And I believe we have changed so much since last summer."

He looks up at her finally with a sparkling gaze, his writing arm relaxing with his quill off the paper, "I don't believe we have. You are just the same. I'm still just writing away."

Letting a tiny smile form on her lips, "Yes you are, and that's a good thing—a better habit than drinking. But—Alex will you stop writing for a moment, please?"

Growing agitated, she lost her smile at him not paying attention to her.

"I'm listening, Lilly. I've told you many a time that I'm a multi-tasker."

"Yes, and that's alright, but now I want your eye contact. I thought my tone made it clear that I'm serious about talking about distracting and our relation—"

"Goodness—no. No, no!" He practically jumped from his seat at the spilled ink he spilt when he pulled back his arm too quickly to set his quill down.

"No, no, no," he grabbed a handkerchief out of his desk drawer and rubbed off the still wet ink off his diligent writings.

"Guess I have my answer," Lillian concludes aloud, but no reaction from the man, still with his papers.

"Alex."

"Maybe I can rewrite just this part…"

"Alexander-"

"—No I'll have to rewrite it. Shit," he kicks the leg of his desk, and fumes looking down at the papers, hands on his hips. "I can't be distracted. Ever."

"So I am a distraction?"

He inhales so loudly in shock as he looks at the woman now standing up from her seat, looking up at him sadly. Instantly, he goes to her and touches her back to pull her into an embrace, but she slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch me. You'll make it worse," she warns him.

"You are not a distraction! I'm so sorry—"

"I said don't touch me!" She yells in his face.

Stepping back from her, leaving three feet between them, he watches her put her cloak back on tensely.

"Make what worse?" He asks meekly.

"Us," she answers quickly as she grabs her cloak and begins wrapping it around herself and tying the ties to it around her neck. "I don't feel… as strong feelings as I had for you in the beginning. And I am sure you don't either. I'm not your first priority when I should be."

"Because of what is going on now. I am not giving you much attention as I should, but—"

She interrupts, "There shouldn't be a _but_ in that. This is exactly what I mean. You have to defend yourself to anything—anyone—even if we're having just simple conversation. Like just now."

His mouth parts and he stares at her in disbelief, shaking his head, "My—That isn't all the time."

"Maybe not instantly in what should be simple conversation, but eventually! Every time! Eventually it grows into—your next essay, your next report, your exhausting reports you force me into listening to and give you feedback above my knowledge, or I talk my mouth off about gossip from soldiers and you pretend listening. I know what pretend listening is I have a loud-mouth brother who gets his high off wine! What I'm saying is our essay shouldn't be my essay. We're sitting there speaking dearly then we dive right into your reports. It should be our free time, that's why you called for me. Except for now. Our… Our relationship isn't what it should be. We're not allowing our hearts to connect when we're speaking, even if subtle."

She catches her breath after her rant, which felt like bricks were taken off her chest, pointing out the flaws in their courting.

"What?" He asks wide eyed, his heart racing, and nostrils inhaling and exhaling per second. "None of my essays have anything to do with you! Look, what does this have to do with hearts connecting? Is this some more of your nurse terminology nonsense? Is the problem we have now- or what has been going on for some time and you didn't tell me—so much deeper than what it really is?"

She guffaws, and smiles sarcastically, her heart hurt by his words that he only pulled that bit out of her rant, "In fact yes it is! And my terminology isn't nonsense! And… I didn't even realize I meant it that way til now."

"Probably because you don't think before you speak. You're just like every other _little star-crossed girl_ in the romance stories. But you stun me. You're far more intelligent than them, but you're still so incredibly naïve and weak."

Lillian's breath falters, emitting a gasp.

"You're weak, falling for everything—everyone, anyone who even shows… a _pinch_ of care for you."

"Look who's talking," she narrows her eyes, but in the process of her eyes squinting, a hot tear falls down her face. She watches it fall on her dress with such a big splat for a tear she never dreamed it possible to cry so much hurt and ache into one fat teardrop. "Listen to yourself for once, you may never learn, because you've shown your incapability long ago, but you will see you are no different than the rest of us."

"You're singling me out like I'm not a regular human being!"

"Because you're not a regular human being!" She raises her voice ever so much, it hurt her throat form stretching it just a pinch wide. "I thought you were the night at the ball. The bright oil paint color on a grey canvas. But-"

"But what?"

"I can't court you anymore. You are not who I thought you were and are no good for me, sir. I'll leave it at that."

He panics and grabs her arm from walking out his tent, "No, Lillian. No, please! We will talk this through, don't say it's over."

"We had no chance of having a happy future. We had no chance of being the _perfect and brilliant couple_ you dreamed us being. I'm ending it now so our doomed love doesn't hurt us further."

"It's not doomed! We have a beautiful love, no love has made me cry this much. I will change. Please-"

"It is over, Alexander! I say so!"

"Well I don't!"

"I don't love you!" She feels a weight lift off her shoulders, and she shudders from crying.

His face remains surprised, and his eyes are watery for the first time in forever. He hasn't been this choked up since his mother passed.

She explains in between sobs, "I'm not happy with you. I used to, or I thought I did. I never met anyone like you, so my heart mustn't have known the difference between adoration and real love. Now I know the difference, and I discovered my unhappiness. I'm only fond of you as a friend that I don't have many of."

"I can see why."

Not even angered anymore, she just felt each of those words hit her chest like stones and all breath leave her—she felt as if she was being stoned to death being in this situation she'd never thought she'd be in.

"Never thought you were thinking this the entire time, it hurts you wait until now of all times, after we made our alliance with France. And _celebrated_. And we were close to advancing our courtship recently. And I've been considering marriage, to be married this summer."

Her mouth parts and her heart cracks even further at his caring, longing gaze onto her person. _But I'm not wrong in my feelings. I don't love him. I love Ben._

He continued, "But perhaps two brilliant minds cannot be together. You see no point in talking things through leaving me with the final thought that two equals can't attract, which gives me further fear of our _united and equal_ country. If we can't then who can."

Her eyes widened at those words. _He thinks so deep_ , she can only think now, feeling numb all over.

"That's not a wise comparison, _Lieutenant_ ," she warns with just enough sense left in her to keep him from losing his mind. "Politics and love, politics in all types of thinking except for politics itself cannot co-exist. We are talking now, are we not?"

He nods his head, looking off into thin air, exclaiming, "I should have listened to reason, not heart."

"I should've listened to my heart. Keeping heart and reason balanced is what I've always been told. But may I say lastly since this conversation and ourselves are no longer balanced, learn how to speak to women, and know that I _always_ think before I speak, and I am not _weak_! Whatever thoughts of mankind you entertain, improve them for the better for yourself and everyone around you.

And _Pamela_ and _Evelina_ have nothing over me. Consider yourself a fool refuted."

She hurriedly walks out the tent after her final words. Her ears ringing so loudly even if the man did say anything she would hear nothing. Her eyes are puffy, blinking away tears that are burning hot, the cold only causing them to hurt even more.

 _I raised my voice to him._

Looking in all directions, not caring who was looking at her strangely or concerned, her eyes found Benjamin's black cloaked form standing a few leagues from her father's tent talking to his servant William across the way. She finds him, Caleb, or family every time. _Every time._

* * *

After him and William exchanged final words dealing with Washington and the army, Benjamin felt the same strange feeling in his gut just as when Caleb was confronting Robert Rogers for the first time after setting out to retrieve his late brother from the Jersey.

So naturally, he looked away from William who walked away to catch up with Washington and his guardsmen, to scan the area on high alert but what he saw was far worse from anything experienced thus far… there was no denying it.

Benjamin, in bewilderment, runs over to a distressed, crying Lillian Washington. He is not as he left her before his assignment and didn't plan on returning to her so late, and seeing her in this state.

She doesn't make any steps towards him because she feels she'll collapse if she moved another inch. Still being in front of Alexander's tent didn't help much at all, but her optimistic side immediately got the better of her at that thought _; he is the past_. Her face however, and heart, is still in a pain she knows all too well.

Ben only thinks she is panic stricken.

"Lillian!" he shouts running towards her while holding his sword in its hilt at his side. "What's wrong?"

"Ben—" she throws herself into his chest in a fit of sobs muffled in his blue and white chest of clothes, letting him support all her weight in his tight hold around her waist and hand on her back.

"Lil—" he can't get any words out seeing her this way, and can't speak loud enough over the cries and snuffles. She is shaking! "I'm here. I'm here."

Just as any best friend would, well for a man and a woman, he pulls her closer so their heartbeats are felt- his more rapid because of his ever increasing worry, and since its cold, he pulls his cloak around them both to shield her from soldier's curious and concerned eyes as well as the cold all while paying mind to be appropriate about it. He knows she doesn't want to be seen like this, no woman does.

"I can't," she chokes out a sob, pushing at his waistcoat as if to get him to stop shielding her from the public eye, "answer."

"You don't have to," he soothes quietly, not letting her pull away. "Only when you're ready, or not at all."

"Don't let me go, please don't," she gives up and continues crying like the rain, his undershirts and necktie are already soaked from her face trying to bury into him to hide her from the world.

"I won't Lilly, I won't. Don't cry, please, I'm sure it isn't worth your tears."

As if not hearing him, she continued, "I'm sorry—I'm sorry for being me! For crying right now I can't control—I'm being weak right now—"

 _Now that doesn't sound right,_ he thinks.

"Look at me Lilly," he doesn't push her any bit away, but he brushes her hair out the way to attempt seeing any skin and find her neck to turn her face to look up at him. "Why would you say that? Don't say that, you have no reason to. Shhh, let's speak about something else. I thought of you every day during my assignment and wrote you letters, did you get them?"

For some odd reason, she cried if not harder than before after he said that.

 _Is that good or bad?_ His eyes widen innocently, worried and confused. _I hope she received them._

"Give me something," he prays aloud in a pained beg himself, however he didn't think it'd be directly answered. Sharply turning to his left at the sound of a tent flap opening, emerges an aggrieved Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, rather teary eyed himself.

Ben makes eye contact with the man, feeling all the hairs on his body stand up at the defeated look in the man's always focused eyes. He watches him look away from them with a flick of his long black cloak, papers clutched to his chest, heading towards Lillian's father's tent.

"Is he gone?" her voice shakes as she speaks carefully, as if stepping on broken glass to get across the shambolic spot. "I heard him open the tent and walk out."

"Yes, yes he is," he answers, finally getting her to look up at him… regretting it.

Snow falls over her hood and onto what hair is visible, she is frozen. There is thunder in her thoughts, despair coursing through the blood in her cheeks, and a numbness clouding her red-strained eyes.

This is exactly why love and war don't coincide with one another.

So he asks the question burning in his mind to ask aloud, fearing the answer.

"Lillian, did he hurt you?"

"Not in the way you think-"

"-Lillian, did he hurt you?"

Her eyes were answer enough, she didn't have to glance down to the earth, and gently tilt her head down and back up the small centimeter she had just done. He was already going to walk on over to the Lt. Colonel, follow him into her father's tent, and raise hell.

"Do not," she tells him, eyes snapping up reading his fuming facial features as she knew he'd react. "Trust me that I gave him a told already, and that was enough. There wasn't supposed to be any hurtful words. But we are no more. We never were anything more."

She shakes her head, swallowing the salty saliva mixed with tears down her throat. His hands went to the sides of her arms to get her to stop trembling with sob sounds.

"How could he not love you? For being a rather 'good' man, and you are a great woman. Sorry to ask," Ben's voice breaks, not crying, but from the pain in his chest and all the air in his lungs that took him to ask this.

Lillian shakes her head, eyes closed tightly.

"It's not like that. He loved me wrong, and I thought I truly loved him. He loved me only to gain… my… you know," she trails off, squeezing her stinging eyes shut to suppress any more tears and cries.

He raised a brow and looked her up and down discreetly, "I never thought you were the kind to be that close."

Her eyes bulge open, and her jaw drops, "No! We didn't! That's not what I meant. He just wanted my pretty face by his side, my college educated mind to speak to him when he wants—"

"He wants glory, and you to hang off his arm like a—trophy," he stops himself from fuming further and cursing, biting his lower lip to calm himself.

"Exactly. And so much more than just that," she looks into his eyes understandably as she lowered her voice to above a whisper. "Please escort me out of the public eye, now, Benjamin. I'm ashamed to have acted this way in front of you in public. You don't have to if it'd blemish your rep."

His mind and body snap to it, and from moving so quickly he catches a nasty chill from the biting cold air.

"Have no shame, ever. Consoling His Excellency's daughter, my friend, will not blemish any reputation I still attain. Where to?"

"Anywhere but near my tent and my father's. He is over there currently and there are gossiping women in my tent at this time."

With a stiff nod, he conveys his understanding, "Then my tent it is then. I was heading over there anyway before I saw you."

Pulling her hood closer to her cheek and further over her head to hide her face she nods, "If you say so."

Linking her arm together with his, tucking it as far as he could so she can get some warmth from his chest and underarm as they walk, he regularly walks her towards his tent, nodding his head at soldiers who welcomed him back.

* * *

Her leaning against his left side like a rock, and his left arm holding hers, he pulls back the tent flap with his right hand, and gestures her inside first. In his heart, it was a wonderful walk they shared if only she wasn't heartbroken and she were _his_. Also for once, his hand wasn't on his sabre.

She nods, and walks straight towards the first chair she sees, by his cartable writing desk, and sits down slowly.

Entering in after her, Ben shut the flap behind him, glancing over at her staring at the ground unblinkingly, like a baby bird that has fallen out of its nest, with no wisdom of knowing how to fly, so it stares at one spot… waiting for help. Very unlike her.

Clearing his throat, he offers, "Would you like something to drink?"

"No thank you," she answers quietly, shaking her head and blinking finally, but another silence followed for at least five minutes. Since then, Ben lit two candles, and pulled a chair from the corner of the tent and sat down on it across from her, but closer to his bed cot to give her some space.

He knows she is hurting, but he is curious about her unusual silence with him—other than the reason being Hamilton. He kept insignificant worries at bay, and patiently, silently waits for her to speak, not wanting to bother her.

Lillian finally speaks, her head somewhat tilted towards his direction, "I loved, or at least I thought I did. A brilliant man, a wonderful man. My father thinks he is, he is. Anyone can tell me that, anyone can see it. But he had so many… vices that came with such brilliance. He was a tortured man who somehow only inflicted punishment on himself throughout everything he did whether it is life or love or achievement. He loved me, at least for some time, but he didn't love me enough that he could be satisfied with such a love. The war has everything to do with it, no matter how much he said otherwise. This was his chance to be better, and gaining my attention he felt unstoppable. I mean everyone desires love, it's the most satisfactory feeling in the world. But nothing was enough for him."

She smiles thinking of his brilliant, brilliant blue eyes, not looking at Benjamin who is staring at her with ample attention, listening to every word, "His heart was broken from the start. It's his mind that keeps him going and always will keep him going. It's the only thing he has, and what he wants to protect the most. His deepest thoughts, desires, dreams… But I'm not one of those dreams or desires. I was just a thought, a tool to get to those dreams that did not involve me or my family. Our time together was devoid of real feeling despite our friendly talks, and kisses. There was nothing there. There was always a hollowness that came every time he left or I left, and it resurfaced every time he didn't talk at all, really. But it's over now, and for certain, I do not feel that hollowness anymore."

Ben licks his dry lips, aching inside, "I'm sorry this has happened to you. You're undeserving of it."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, it's life. Heartache, tears. I'm the one who is sorry for not covering my emotions as well as my father, mother, you, and every other regular person in this country—" her voice breaks into sobs, and tears fill her eyes again. "I don't know what I was thinking, thinking I'm stronger than what I am. I'm not what others perceive me, and that's all I ever wanted to be."

"Don't speak like that, Lilly," he goes to move his chair closer to her but he stops, feeling awkward wondering if he should leave her space to break down and cry—because by all means why not, she has every right to—or hold her tightly like he's been fantasizing of late. To chase that thought away, rather inappropriate for this time, he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a handkerchief, being sure to turn it to the cleanest side, or part there is because it hasn't been washed all throughout his journey.

Sniffling, she takes it thankfully and blots the corners of her puffy eyes, and rosy cheeks.

After folding the handkerchief together to cover her marks, she looks to Ben and asks with a parched throat, shyly, "Do you love me?"

Ben, stunned by her question, "What do you mean?"

Lillian asks again in a clearer voice, "Do you love me?"

Ben is silent for a moment contemplating such a question, a forward question, for such feeling he has for her can't be revealed so easily. He shifts in his chair, and straightens his back while his yellow clad legs are closed together more.

"Why of course I do," he looks to her, watching her get up from her chair, and walk towards him.

"But do you really love me? Or do I take all those moments we've had the wrong way, and your words? I must know if what I think and see is correct or not."

Ben doesn't know what to say. He thinks it every day, and when he's away from her his mind wanders to her, but in front of her now and she is asking him upfront? He's at a loss of words. These feelings about anyone have been repressed for so long the poor man forgets the difference of love and war, and loathe for war and the fight for love. It seems pointless, as everyone loses in the end, and his duty is put first more than anything now, which is what he reminds to himself and Caleb when _love_ is brought up.

That look on her face though, heartache and numbness when he finally saw her face after being gone for a while, it reminded him why love and war don't coincide.

 _But his heart._ The wild spirit in him wanted to take all her pain away from the start, and wants to know her, and wants to see her beautiful face every moment of the day, and ensure she is alright to the fullest extent being able to just walk into her tent freely... like the Lieutenant had done, kiss her out in public for all to see she is loved by him and him only…

The looks they've shared in the past… Their first meet, her walking into his court martial dressed in gold, the golden sunlight making her shine golden with such innocence, power, grace, and beauty… His promise to her across a single candle light that he'd prove his morality to her… Securing her from Setauket in the midst of a town frenzy… Taking her hand when it wasn't his to hold… Writing to her personally without permission… Pulling her close when she wasn't his to hold… Sneaking out on nights to speak…

All of those moments amounted up to this one, one moment he didn't think would happen this soon or at all even. Today, after the Lieutenant Colonel had broken her heart and when he had returned with his dragoon.

"I do," he found himself saying despite what reason tells him, but his heart beated on and told him _don't turn back now._ "I do. I love you _like the way the sun would fall for the moon, and the moon would fall for the sun so they can each share the earth even though they are apart for so long, every single day_."

Lillian, her bright eyes, brim with tears at his confession, and recalling those words from one of his poems and picturing him saying them to her laced in his velvety accent, "I knew you did. I'm past the point of embarrassing myself, I had to ask."

Ben takes her small hand, and gestures for her to sit down on his cot, across from his angled chair. Not once do his studious blue eyes leave her brown ones, and watches her sit gracefully in front of him even in her fallen apart state.

"You never embarrass yourself," Ben's other hand outstretched to gently push a loose lock of hair behind her ear, blushing while doing so with a taut jaw.

"I received and read your letters, they were beautiful. The well-read words of a Yale boy I suppose are beautiful to anyone who reads them. But to me they held their own beauty for me," she calmly brings up, still quietly. "Even long before I have heard these words from you, you give me hope, you make me happy, you take away the pain I associate with a trivial nation on the brink of its birth. Its hopeful birth. Since the first time I met you, you leave me in wonder and on the edge of my seat. That's bold I know to say, but I can't continue on with you not knowing how I really feel. I don't know you as well as I would like, yet, but I know I always loved you, and that I can say more certain than anything else. I love you."

Ben, a small smile appearing on his face, rubbing his thumb on the side of her hand he still holds, "I love you too."

Adding not a second after, he breathes out, "I will love you forever, if you will let me."

Lillian doesn't say anything. She moves in, her soft pink lips, getting closer and closer, until they slowly brush against his cold, chapped ones. He leans forward to lock them together assuredly, embracing each other's lips in a kiss that warmed them and their hearts, caressing together like crackling flames of a fire.

"I will," she quietly whispers against his mouth when they part but a centimeter.

Ben, breathlessly and red in the face, sets his hand on her cheek tenderly, eyes shining wildly with renewed strength and a fire in his eyes which Lillian only knows is love. _Ben's love… for me…_

She sets her free hand above his on her cheek, beaming up at him, and before he knew it, he was as well.

A wave of unfamiliarity came over him shortly after he completely processed they kissed. Kissed!

No experience in kissing, or comforting a woman, or what to even say—perhaps he does know what he is doing. But he's not going to speak so soon. Now he feels like a schoolboy who had just kissed his woman of interest he has been eyeing since he was little, and clueless.

This moment of peace, once more in her presence, and many more to come he hopes, has him reeling with joy, but also fear. There is a war going on still, and they are both involved with espionage. At least on his end not anymore, unless Caleb frees Abe successfully.

Humming soundly, making his inside groan with delight at making her feel so sound, Lillian asks, "What made you want to write me all a sudden? Or when did you realize you love me?"

"Remember before I left how you came to check on my health?" She nods her head, a knowing smile crossing her face now. "That was when I realized I hold an undeniable love towards you that will never go away. I wanted to update you on the road as well, as you asked, but to also slowly earn your favor and see if I am eligible in your eyes—" both of her hands encompass his, which makes him pause, sighing contented and relieved. "—I knew I had competition with the Lieutenant. You're not a trophy, that is not what I mean, but to have and to hold you and love you like you deserve to be loved. These feelings I knew I couldn't hold them down any longer. There is something between us."

" _Had_ ," she restates when he mentioned Alexander. "Not anymore you have competition. If there was I'd have picked you. You break the eligibility scale you are worth everything to me. I am yours."

Shyly, with shaking breaths which makes her giddy to hear, he raises her hands to his lips, and kisses them with devotion and security, eyes dark with ambition, "As I'm yours, Miss Washington."

"My other half," she laughs pleasantly at him saying her title the way he does, so soldierly and manly!

But the moment she spoke those three words, his steady gaze blinked and blue pools glazed over with worry.

"Half. Billy! Lillian—sorry," he stands up and dashes over to his desk, sifting through his mail seeing if since Washington couldn't speak to him face to face, eye to eye, perhaps he had sent him something, or a secretary had written something for his mind ingest about his current position he holds as 'Major'… but to no avail.

"What is it Ben?"

"Before I ran over to see you, Billy pulled me over, after your father ignored my presence to speak to him, and informed me he hasn't been well, he's been through rough times. What happened while I was gone?" Ben is back at her side once more, both of them standing, but this time in closer proximity than before, both of their souls pleased with this quick development.

"My father had plans for me to attend many of the dinners the officers have throughout January, and also meetings with only him, but he always put them off. William told me he felt ill one night, beginning of January before you left I believe, which ended up being something mental. He has grudges—"

"—I'm sure I'm one of them—" Ben cut in.

"—And he had hallucinations. His worries were eating him up and not once did he call for me to help or speak to him. It's so unlike him! Ben, I haven't had one to one conversation with him since the end of December. And he ignored your presence?"

Out of disbelief, for the fourth time today, he shakes his head, "Yes he did, and avoided my eye. Did you even try visiting him yourself when he wasn't well?"

"He turned me away. I admit my free time to speak with him is mid-day and the evening, which both he is busy unfortunately. I know he is better since the French alliance happened, but before that I don't know what visibly calmed him, he looked more confident than before. Hewlett! That's what I thought would have been on his mind—" her sudden thought interrupted, and saddened so quickly after hearing Ben's heavy words.

"Major Hewlett is dead. Your father signed the pardon, and they received it, but when Caleb and I got there they were all dead, and a cross marked his grave."

Turning away from him, tears threatening to fill her eyes as the sinking notion in her stomach came to mind, "Abe…"

Ben's hand was on her shoulder the moment she turned away, and held it there gently as he explained, "Caleb went to New York to break him out of prison, following his own agenda. I had no part of his plan."

"Did you hear from him?"

"No." He answers disappointingly, worried if his friend had perished or not, or succeeded in getting Abe out.

Reaching up and squeezing the large hand on her shoulder tightly, he expected her to ask about Caleb's plan, but when she turns back to face him, she looks up at him as if he knows all, "Why is this happening? Something good is going then things go wrong."

His hand stays on her shoulder, even when she turned back around to meet his hardened eyes, "That is war, Lilly. And that is our spy ring. Espionage was never said to be easy or nothing is easy for that matter."

"I know that, Ben. Just, why now. Why more often? Since Abe went to prison it started going downhill."

"No, it's since I've been keeping things from everyone, and lying to them. I caused this. If Abe has been freed, I will better myself with that instilled habit Mr. Sackett told me to occupy, and perhaps the ring will not have many bumps in the long road. Some old ways need to be looked over and new ideas must be instigated."

Swallowing, she hesitates, "And if Abe has not been freed?"

"Then my work here as Head of Intelligence is officially done—in spite of your father's original words."

Frustration towards her father filling her chest, Lillian purses her lips together in a tight frown, and begins to uplift Ben's spirit for the ring, "We have my end, still."

"I'll start the petition for you to be new Head of Intelligence. You have my vote."

Tapping his shoulder lightly with the tops of her fingers, she looks at him sternly, "No you will continue to be Head of Intelligence as you never were dismissed. But we will have my end, and I will make my father listen to us both, and we'll find new people! You changed this entire war for us, Ben. You successfully started Culper, and kept it running for two years now."

His jaw unstiffens at her words, and underneath his smile is absolute proudness in what he has done during this nation's war, but also displeasure because he had to lose his whole unit to Robert Rogers… and it was that day he almost died by a bayonet to the chest that something had to change and the dark secret behind all the British's victories came known.

As if sensing those exact thoughts, she sets her small, cold hand on his cheek, "Something good will come of this. The ring will see its third year, and however long it has to remain going until our country is free as long as I'm here, and you. I won't see you fail. You won't."

Pulling her close to his chest, in a tight embrace, he kisses the top of her head, "I have you, I have not failed yet, and I won't as long as I have you. We will make it right."

She pulls back to meet his eyes with hers that feel larger since she has done all this crying, and her hands pressed flat against his white waist coated chest with his arms still around her securely.

"I will make it right," Ben promises her. "for us. I promise."

"You mean the ring?"

"From my standpoint, it all coincides with one another, now, with you on top. First. And I see it working. I've been raised to know that a man's woman should be put first."

Looking down choked up, overwhelmed with so much happiness at his words, he stanchly tilts her chin up and he lowers his head so they are inches apart.

"I want to ask you to court me, but it'd be improper without your parents blessing, especially after you and the Lieutenant made your decision. There's no doubt he told your father, and your father won't see me fit."

"Ben, do not worry about my father or me. You need to focus on you now. Don't worry about me, or us courting officially yet," she silences him by putting a finger to his dry lips. "We have time. You must get caught up on what you missed and keep business first. I'm an afterthought—"

He bites his lip, removing her finger from his mouth slowly, "I am not Alexander! You are not an afterthought—you never are. You are my dream, my desire, my everything Lillian, and I will multitask everything else if it means to keep you first and foremost, or drop all of it if it means not. I wasn't appointed Head of Intelligence or accepted into Yale for nothing."

"Courting isn't college or anything intelligent. It's delicate Ben, from what I learned. I don't want our friendship to end, nor do I want my growing love for you to die. Like everyone who has walked into my life, and many have left, I will tell you as I told them, I worry. Don't risk—don't lose to gain," she reminds him thinking back to the late _Patsy, Baker,_ and _Nathan Hale_.

"Oh but I'm not," he claims her lips with his own, "not anymore. I will go now and find out what I missed, and figure out why your father gave Charles Lee half the army. Very concerning."

"Greatly," Lillian agrees, worry for her father mixed with the worry of Ben.

"Then I will go from there. And depending if Caleb gets back successful, we'll further our methods," Ben finishes, preparing himself to leave as he lowers his hands and arms from around his new found love's waist, but takes her hand and leads her to the entrance of the tent.

Quietly, he adds, "And we'll share a kiss any chance we get in secret until a courtship can be discussed, if I may be so bold."

Lillian's stomach flops over, and grows warm, "Very bold, and naughty. But that's what you are. And I love how you display yourself as not. Innocent than what you're really thinking."

Smirking and blushing at her flirting words, he licks his chapped lips once more, "Whereas you don't? Rather bloody well and sweet."

" _Elegantly tamed_ , is what I call it."

"I'm something tamed," he chuckles, failing to flirt back.

"We'll further our adverbs and adjectives too while we're at it," she jokes resulting in the both laughing in unison.

"But if we have success or not, with the ring, this time you have me, more than ever before," she found herself saying. Butterflies flutter in her stomach with such color, it has blinded her from the rest of the world, but only can she see Ben, right now. He looks down at her with the extra foot in height he has over her, not wanting to tear away from her side in the slightest.

Leaning down with his penetrative gaze, once more, risking the chance for them to be discovered in his tent kissing, he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead.

"And you have I. Stay warm, my lady, it's about to get cold," he tells her, letting her grab the clasp of her cloak with her left hand to keep it together, and with her other hand he holds, leads her outside into the public view once more earning but a couple glances since them being seen together is not unusual.

..

However, two people find it so, watching from afar. And they believe they have found the missing link in their plan that's approaching its time to be hatched out.

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

 _"Love is a bauble, no man is able to say it is this or 'tis that. An idle passion of such a fashion, 'Tis like I, cannot tell what. Love is a fellow, clad all in yellow, the canker-worm of the mind; a privy mischief, and such a sly thief, no man knows where him to find…"_ I sing this silly love song to myself still feeling happiness envelope me I didn't know I could feel.

My index finger trails along my cheek, and lips, and settling there remembering how forward I was to kiss him first. How unheard of! But I've never been so right, and he returned it. He returned it so lovingly, and carefully yet sure in his 'Benjamin- way', it was enough to deem it passionate love-making to me.

Blushing feverously at the thought, I chase it away, not wanting to get too far ahead of myself.

"Lilly, my sweet, you cannot sing," my mother disrupts my daydreaming; walking into the tent we share. "If you could, I would have put you through singing lessons."

Shutting my eyes with an amused sigh, I retort, "But you put Jacky through those lessons? He is now teaching his two year old daughter obscene drinking songs!"

"Oh! Lilly! Don't repeat this!" She scolds me. "Your father will be responding to his letter shortly. He is not at all pleased with his recent behaviors."

"He's not pleased with many things dealing with family of late. Only you which is well…"

Kissing the top of my head, she comes to stand behind my chair in front of my vanity avoiding the subject of father, "What's got you so happy?"

Shaking my head, smiling dreamily, I reply, "I can't say."

"Stubborn little thing," she mumbles, ruffling my hair making me giggle. "But may I say I am sorry about you and Alexander's… deflated relationship."

Alexander's hurtful words float around my mind, but they will only reappear clearly if I am face to face with him again, which will be avoided if I can help it. Now, Benjamin, a dashing cavalry man has confessed his love for me up front, and I him, and promised to be mine forever. What a day it has been.

"But you knew it'd never last," she adds, rubbing my shoulders.

"Yep. Like I know everything," I laugh at my mother's eye-roll.

"Not everything, if I may cut in," my father's breathy voice unexpectedly fills the tent, speaking so calmly, and since I haven't heard him speak towards us for a while, I turn right towards him, losing my smile.

Trying to find strength to stand, but I couldn't bring myself to.

My mother's hand rubbing my back slowly helped ease my nervousness, nervous about what my father wishes to say.

His eyes are still on me, full of sorrow, he asks, "Lillian, may I speak with you for a moment? In my tent?"

Politely, I nod my head, "Yes sir."

I stand up, leaving my cloak on my chair where my mother continues to stand, and I follow my father outside, and to his tent right next door with his two lifeguards walking behind me.

"What do you wish to discuss?" I ask as we enter the tent, not waiting to see who was inside, which no one was. Not even William.

Giving orders to the life-guardsmen to hold their post and not let anyone enter, closing the flap, my father steps up to me, and pulls me to him in a hug and his chest starts shaking with a dry sob.

"Father-"

"-Lilly, no words can express my deepest apology on how I made no time for you as I should have and how untruthful I've been towards you."

"Untruthful?" I look up at him, returning his tight hug before we both part, and he takes my hand, leading me to sit down in a chair across from him.

He takes off his hat, placing it on his desk, and drags a chair from behind his desk to sit closer to me.

"I know you've been told about my recent health scares concerning my mentality, which is in check. But I've been keeping any form of information dealing with Benjamin Tallmadge clear from you because-"

"Because you don't trust him and he is a poor influence on me, I know. This again! You told me before, and you're telling me again. He has done nothing to you or me to deserve this treatment—"

"No he hasn't which is why I'm telling you my true intentions so nothing else can be kept in the dark between us," he raises his voice only a level in order to interrupt me. "I have failed in that promise."

My mouth shuts, and my eyebrows furrow as I straighten in my chair.

"I assure you my sweet; it is all part of my tactful planning. Do you recall the morning back in Morristown where I found you asleep in my desk chair? That you were up almost all night practicing the invisible ink writing."

"Yes.."

"Not only informing me of your old problems concerning yourself, you told me much about Benjamin, him being a moral gentleman and his words shining brighter than his character, if I remember you saying. Him being my eyes when I cannot see, watching out for my safety… integrity."

Inwardly shivering at him recalling the talk we shared months ago so vividly, I had to exclaim aloud, as my mind is thinking it, "You remember."

His lips upturning into a smile, and eyes glistening with his never-ending fatherly love I haven't seen in his gaze for a while, making me begin to cry, "I remember everything you tell me. Don't cry, please. I know you've been crying all day, if I can assume."

Taking his offered handkerchief to wipe the corners of my eyes, and smelling his scent plastered on it as I have since he first adopted me.

"Alexander told me everything, and with bravery, confessed to me what poor words he has said unto your person. You were undeserved of being told such, and he apologized to Martha and I and you. He will come tomorrow, and apologize to you upfront."

"Well, good, I suppose. I told him some things back. I guess I put him in his place. No one crosses me," I mumble, and soon smirking when my father's chest rumbles with laughter.

After both recovering, and resuming our talk, I shake my head, "What about keeping things in the dark. You brought up Morristown."

"Now this, Lillian, you must not repeat to anyone. Not even Benjamin, for his own good," my father's voice grows serious. "And for the good of the war."

My throat felt as if it closed up, and I respond understandingly, "Yes sir."

* * *

Benjamin had found General Greene after escorting Lillian back to her tent, and was finally given a full explanation on Washington's decision on giving General Lee half the army to attack the evacuating British soldiers from Philadelphia who are now on their way to New Jersey.

 _"Bradford has said some 10,000 men and 1,500 wagons," General Greene informed the young major._

 _Benjamin held back an irritated frown at the mention of Bradford, known to him mostly as Lee's right hand man and the man who insulted his love Lillian's honor years ago. But he hasn't heard comments since then about her person, and she hasn't confided in him any rumors about her. Every man knows their place then, and have honor._

After discarding his cloak back in his tent feeling warm, and other officers weren't wearing theirs, he made his way back to Washington's tent where the men are being given orders on their next move.

Upon entering, he glanced at Lillian's tent and his heart swelled as he puffed his chest out with a boost of confidence.

 _For us. Whatever has to be done. And to get to the bottom of Lee's plan.._

 _"Tell Lafayette we need his battalions ready to march by 4:00_ ," Ben recognizes the sound of Bradford's voice through the blowing tent flap. He gets rid of any ill feelings towards the man, temporarily, and walks in waiting patiently to address him, as Lee isn't around.

"Wayne is to follow two hours later. Meet us at Coryell's Ferry," Bradford writes out notes for each of the messenger's leaders serving under Lee. And it is now finally that the young wavy haired man acknowledges Ben's presence, settling both the palms of his hands on the pommel of his sword.  
"So you wish to serve under General Lee?" Bradford surmises looking upon his personal nemesis vaguely.

"I do," Ben responds soldierly, betraying no hint of unprofessional emotion towards the man. "And I have four troops of dragoons provisioned and ready to ride."  
Bradford questions once more, "I thought you were Washington's man."

Ben nods his head, smiling faintly as he steps closer, "Was his man, but now yours leads the fight and Washington brings up the rear. By the time he arrives, you may well have won the day."

A faint smirk growing on the other man's face, and a characteristic glint in his eye, he recognizes, "I always figured you for a glory hound, Tallmadge. Just like that _fool_ Arnold."  
"Look, I know we've had our differences in the past, Bradford," Ben grows grim and maintains eye contact with the man as it is a time to convince. "And I apologize for any disrespect I may have shown to you or to General Lee. Now we can put that behind us and band together to fight the real enemy, King George's footmen. Now I know you have plenty of infantry and cannon, but hardly any horse.  
My dragoons can be anywhere on the battlefield they're needed, whether it's to harass Clinton's flanks or to punch holes through his lines. And we're damn good scouts as well."

After looking down while he spoke, Bradford raises his head up and makes direct eye contact with him once more, with guarded and grim eyes of his own, "You'll be serving under my direct command, is that clear?"

"It is," Ben nods his head.

But the man stares him down and tilts his head to the side referring to him being looked up to as Ben's superior, and to be called as such.. He is a general after all.

"Sir." Ben adds, feeling the unprofessional feelings begin to rise in his core, frustrating him to no end. Holding his gaze until he walks away, Ben looks back to where the man once was standing, and glares holes at it, biting his lip. ' _He's enjoying every bit of this.'_

* * *

 ** _Somewhere in New York.._**

The coiffeur hurries his way up the stairs to his salon, clutching a blank piece of paper to him with worry creasing his superbly powdered brow.

"Freddy! Why so quick?" He hears one of his female companions call from below.

Not even glancing back at her, he calls over his shoulder, "Just a moment Becky, your untimely imperfections can wait just a moment."

Feigning insult, but reconsidering his words with a thoughtful look, she shrugs, "Hurry! I need to leave soon! My escort is very prompt! I need to look good."

Finally up the stairs, and turns sharply into the salon, the self-obsessed hairdresser darts right over to his desk, buried underneath hair paste, paint, chemicals, wigs, and extensions. Shoving a wig on its wooden stand over, knocking over a bottle in the process, he sets the blank sheet of paper down, and scrambles through an already open drawer, pulling out two vials of green and clear liquid.

And reaching in the back of the drawer for the proper brush, he remembers the other is the reagent, so he opens it and dips the small brush in the green liquid. He then brushes it all across the letter, and reapplying it where dry spots were left.

Lightly blowing on it, and waving his hand over it for extra air to dry it quicker, black script slowly appears, and not as wordy as he thought it'd be.

 _Freddy, as you have asked, I have found out something that will put your friend Lillian in danger._

 _They have two men in the Continental Camp betraying Washington, and intend on ending Washington and his daughter's life. Yes, she isn't Lillian Kennedy, but she is the only woman with the first name in that part of the colony. It is best to get rid of her or not at all, it has been said._

 _That's all I shall say, as we only promised each other for the night and in payment, private information on our next intentions that will play out shortly._

 _Humblest wishes, and warmth._

 _-J.G._

Freddy glowers down at the paper with a pompous lip, ignoring the calls of Becky downstairs in the foyer as his nerves take hold, and he snatches a quill from the drawer, grabs a fresh sheet of paper, and begins writing to his friend whose life is at stake.

"Writing?! Who can you possibly be writing-" Becky walks into the room, and he glares at her annoyedly ."Becky, love, you're only messing up your 'do moving around so much. This is important—"

"Can it wait?" She snaps back.

"Wait in the other room, your escort can wait if you intend on looking perfect," he snips.

The thin faced woman smirks, with round red powdered cheeks, and asks before strolling out the room, "May I ask who?"

"My _supplier_."

 **A/N: DUN DUN DUN DUN… Benjamin and Lillian have sorted their feelings out, finally! Huzzah for war and love! And a KISS! Yes they're together, so don't quit on this story yet lol. Because who knows what I have in mind. I'm trying to keep this as realistic in a historical fictional setting as possible.**

 **She finally spoke to her father! But about Benjamin of all things? Well, something she mustn't tell Ben or anyone? I'm sure those who have watched the end of Season 2 know what Washington is keeping to himself, and will not tell until the final episode of Season 2. If Washington is telling her, than it is all part of his 'tactful planning.' That man is wise.**

 **Bradford makes me want to spit up, but in real life, Bradford had no part in such treachery. He was a brave soldier and Washington respected and trusted him, his story is neat.**

 **I've been conflicted whether to stay on an actual historical timeline… as Monmouth should happen in the summer and not the end of winter… but since this is the TURN Tv show, and I've meddled enough by inserting Lillian which altered many events, I'll be keeping everything TURN fictionally created alone. After writing this chapter, new ideas came to mind, muahaha. And Freddy! Lillian's life and her father's is in danger.**

 **Next: Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot was a long one, so yeah, much will happen before Season 3! It felt like I just began writing this yesterday. Thank you all to those who still review, I love your reviews and comments! Thank you! Stay tuned :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	29. Chapter 29: Gunpowder, Treason, Plot pt1

**A/N: I'm back! I apologize for the wait, but not only I had periods of writer's block, but also, I lost all my plans for this story and forgot what I was doing next to end season 2. Fear not, I've got my plan back together and I'll be watching season 3 to help me write these current chapters. Almost there! I've also found my answer to this unusual episode. While it looks like a dreary spring day before the Battle of Monmouth, I found on an article that it is indeed summertime during this episode for the tv timeline, and real historical timeline. Therefore, I've decided to make this filler chapter to cover the time gap between start of spring and beginning of summer. So, will Lillian leave at the start of spring, or will she stay with the army? Please enjoy!**

 **Chapter 29: Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot Pt. 1**

 **Valley Forge**

In the warmer wake of the beginning of spring, horses neigh and canter around with their riders either on them, or leading them in a walk by the reins to an empty patch of the land away from the tents.

With a watchful eye, Lillian looks towards them practicing while folding and drying laundry with Caty Greene, Maria, and Ashley. When they are done, then she will be able to do as she pleased except for seeking out Ben.

Rather a chilly day, so as she shudders and without being rude to the ladies, she takes the chance to turn her head to the soldiers across the wide muddy walkthrough dressed in blues or browns. She looks for her Ben amongst the men, but to no avail. _Her Ben_ , she thinks with a smile that spreads across her lips she can't hide. She knows that the men are preparing to attack the British on retreat but something about this felt off to her. Other than the fact her father gave General Lee half the army… All to attack some soldiers retreating? Seems unfair in her kind sense, but if this war is to be won, the patriots must have the upper hand wherever they can. Then she hasn't been told more detail or an update on their engagement with the British since she clearly isn't an officer, and this doesn't apply to her according to Ben.

Whether it is in his mannerisms or ways, he leaves on a good note with her every time, and leaves nothing out in his word. The problem with General Lee is that he is indeed a nuisance to the men and her father, so Ben by instinct is doing right by keeping her out of the target zone and will seek her out when he deems it right. For this sole reason and the other reasons being they are not courting yet, and her father does not wish to see either of them around each other for reasons Ben and her already know, and she can't relay to him because of his 'safety'. While her father had given her some 'juicy speak' and filled her in on what he has been keeping from her, Benjamin telling her everything that is happening or to happen allows both to feel better about one another and ready for whatever is to come in time, and only then Ben will find out why her father took the precautions he did for a certain General.

During the talk with her father the other day, he had certainly eased her spirits, and rekindled their connection that felt twisted and close to breaking. But sweet heavens did they speak of Benjamin! It made her heart throb with joy after what happened that chaotic day that had tried her feelings. Did she mention him and her wanting to court? No. It certainly wasn't the time and place yet and not her place to ask her father for permission if things don't go as planned. She would look like a fool of she spoke of this.

 _Oh but I wouldn't._ She then thinks.

"They have a lot to prepare for," Caty caught Lillian's gaze.

"Yes. I can't believe they're actually going to attack now. After practice, of course."

Caty and Maria laugh whilst Ashley and Lillian look at them confused.

"You think they're leavin' now?" Maria asks me with a laugh before immediately frowning at my nod, and swats Ashley on the shoulder with her hand. "Ashley, you didn't tell her!"

"Sorry! I forgot!"

"The British left just before spring began. It was only rumored they were leaving instantly when word was out we claimed Philadelphia, but the harsh winter made everyone sit still. They did try leaving but the French alliance happened. Are you caught up now?"

Lillian shakes her face, blushing embarrassedly for not knowing this, "Almost. I can't believe I wasn't told this."

"Thank goodness I was," Caty remarks. "And I'm here to tell you. In short, we are all waiting on battalions in other near states, like _the Marquis_ , and the ships blocking the redcoats in America frightened them, so it took them—"

"—longer to plan another route. General Lee plans on New Jersey for the place of attack. I see now," Lillian puts together and laughs having not thought more on this subject of the retreat. Perhaps it was the failed romance between her and Alexander always on her mind during that time. Sighing, she thinks of the sweetest moment they shared—when he gave her a rose he clipped from the bush the night of the summer ball. But then there was the time he listened to her read to him when he wasn't speaking, of course, then there was when he immediately came to the carriage when she passed out…

 _She looked Alexander up and down briefly, the daft part of her mind that still attains a little girl mentality still swooned at his tall form in uniform walking towards her, auburn brown hair, normally bright but at that time both his hair and blue eyes were dark as the night sky, without any twinkle of starlight._

 _"Miss… Washington," he hesitates while he managed an uncomfortable half-bow, but his eyes never left hers. Not using her name hurt a little—for both Alexander and Lillian. The atmosphere weighed down in that moment._

 _"Lieutenant Colonel," she voices smoothly, since she always did call him by his title quite easily even when he said she didn't have to. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

 _He only takes one more step closer to her, only two steps apart now—an appropriate enough distance since they are no longer 'close,' but to voice his apology and be the good man he indeed is when speaking to a lady._

 _The night of the ball flashed across Alexander's mind and meeting her. The feeling in his entire being made him melt every day when she was within his sights and could think about her. But almost instantly the thought of him taking her hand and placing it inappropriately on his person made him want to spew right then and there at his first love's feet. Where was his mind that day? Obviously not where it should've been in his real head! Though this wasn't the true reason why they ended, but it was one of the key causes to a heartbreak he'll never get over, he believes._

 _The silence between them continued for more than five minutes as he thought of every good moment, and what might've been if he wasn't so… wrong. Wrong for her, wrong for anyone, wrong for this world to begin with._

 _Finished with chastising himself, for now, Alexander finds his voice and speaks as calm as the flickering candlelight and the early morning rays of the sun which begun to beam through the opening of the tent._

 _"No pleasure, my lady, as I am not deserving of any pleasure from you no longer," he winces with a rapid blink at how strange the words were strung together, but Lillian didn't blink or show any offense of his words. "You owe me nothing. Only I owe you, an apology, if you will hear?"_

 _She nods her head once, so slow… and sweetly demure… His already shattered heart in pieces kept crumbling into smaller grains, building up in his chest and ready for him to spit out. The sickest he has ever felt!_

 _"I was a horrible fool to have treated you the way I had and spoke such untrue and belittling words to your precious person. You may never believe me, and I don't expect you to, but I am truly, irrevocably sorry and I never meant what I said."_

 _"But you said it, that I was weak and desperate so it must have been true—"_

 _"No, truly, it wasn't-"_

 _"-But truly, it was," she continued as if he didn't interrupt. Alexander's hands folded behind his back tighter together than when he walked in as he listened to her beatific voice, enough for him to fall at her feet… He just may, this is the second time since he walked in he thought this. He in fact did for her father when he apologized to him and his wife for saying those things to their daughter. It was an un-honorable thing to do, but honorable to drop to his knees before His Excellency and ask for any punish work or disbandment. To Alex's relief, no punish work or disbandment as his work in this army has nothing to do with a…_ _failed_ _… love with Washington's daughter._

 _"As a…" Lillian paused, refusing to use her nurse argument as that's all she ever does for her reasoning. All together she stopped speaking and glanced down at her feet feeling unlike herself once more before him. 'Oh how a fool you make me, Alex,' she fusses at herself mentally._

 _Alexander found himself smiling bittersweet, immediately recognizing her tone and knew what she was about to say, and continued for her generously, "As a nurse…"_

 _Lillian glanced back up at him, blinking uncertainly. He wasn't mocking her, but he was seeing right through her which felt like mockery, but it wasn't. Clearer and purer, seeing right through her perplexing self, something he did when the moment was just that serious._

 _He closed the space between them, feeling all air leave his lungs and the tent as he continued with a humble breath hoping with all hope he has left to mend their relationship, "As a nurse you are aware of the weakness in all individuals. Injured, fighting for their life, or giving up before your eyes… or completely well, and healthy, glowing… but have dishonesties, masking weakness with strength we all indeed have. But we are all weak..."_

 _She nodded her head hard in agreement with him so far. Her eyes shut tightly but her face is staring at his, feeling his brilliant eyes burn on her face and melting it like wax._

 _Alexander's hand lifted hesitantly, fingers outstretched but curled them back the moment he saw her squeeze her lips into a thin line as if silently in pain._

 _"But you are not weak, my Lillian," he whimpered after he spoke with possession of her, but she always will be his even when she is truly not. "Or desperate, or… too naïve. That is not a bad trait to have. If only we all were like you, wise and furious but meek and sweet. Oh, you do it so well! I'm the one who was always desperate and weak. Weaker than anyone in this camp—that's why all I seem to do is write and overthink! - And at my weakest with you right now."_

 _His hand went to her chin gently, not caressing her smooth skin or staring where he shouldn't. His eyes were locked on her closed ones (her lashes lined with a hint of charcoal, he privately notes) most definitely welled up with hot water like a screaming tea kettle. He begged with teary and determined eyes of his own, "Please look at me! You will not turn to a salt pillar, my sweet."_

 _The corners of her lips upturned into a small smile as her large brown eyes, wet as he thought they were, met his. Sparkling since the night he met her, and shining as if no stars ever went away or dimmed._

 _"Although sweet, that wasn't a wise comparison, Lieutenant!" A smile broke out on her face, feeling the entire room lighten up more. Though the morning sun was fully out by then, and no more rays but full light flooding into the tent. "Lot's wife should've listened to her husband and not look back on Sodom."_

 _"But I am not Sodom," he exhaled as if he was about to laugh but couldn't bring himself too. Their conversation was still serious and heart-rending. The analogy made it remind him of all their greatest conversations when they spoke like this. "I like to think I'm… I was your sanctuary. And you are unwed and free. Powerful, not because you're not scared but because you go on strongly despite the fear."_

 _She lost her short-lived smile and found her voice breaking, "I can say the same for you. You are much bolder than I, now. Going from apology to making my heart beat faster. You always were able to do that. I will miss that feeling, I must say."_

 _His blue eyes not any lighter since he walked in, but all that is still in them and all there ever will be is despair and hope, and Lillian placed a hand on his chest knowing exactly what he was thinking. She has her ways about him too…_

 _"It wasn't your fault. Or mine, if I may say with a heavy heart," she regarded him nodding his head slowly, but repeatedly, clinging to every word she said. "We did grow apart."_

 _"But there's no way to repair? Or to strengthen? I still fail to see why we cannot talk things over," his voice lowers to a helpless whisper. "You don't have to miss that feeling. I still have faith in us, Lillian. Am I that much of a fool?"_

 _She blinks in remembrance of calling him a fool, "You are no fool, Alex. Never. As I said, I do not hold… real love as I thought I had towards you."_

 _He withdrew his hand from her chin and lifts it to behind his neck in exasperation, still in disbelief hearing these words fall from her lips, "Well, then no. I am a fool because I still love you, and always had. And I fear I always will. I cannot simply get over you."_

 _"Do not say that, you're not a fool!" She hissed at him, and with the hand still on his chest she takes him by his coat fastenings and pulls him to her. "We just weren't meant to be. We shared a wonderful love though… You were an honorable man during our courtship, and you always will be honorable til end of time."_

 _"I was foolish with you. Who's to say I won't be foolish down the road? That is one thing I can never learn is acceptance and.."_

 _She asked as soon as he trailed off and didn't finish, "And what, Alex?"_

 _"I don't know what I want anymore. After you, my entire world is growing cloudy and dim. I guess I'll learn myself again._

 _"Don't make me give you this talk again. Look in my eyes and you will see what I repeat once more. Do not beat yourself up," she sighed._

 _"I'm so sorry," he steps closer to her once more, letting her fist clench his neat blue coat as he lowers his forehead to touch hers._

 _Letting go of his jacket, she wrapped him into a comforting hug which he returns so tight, but not enough to pain her. Though, her heart is in pain for breaking his._

Folding another pair of white pants and mixed colored socks, Lillian stopped thinking about her tearful moment with Alexander, but settled with the thoughts of their heartful departing words. She kept all the words he said to her, but it really wasn't a choice. She simply couldn't forget them, no one can forget a brilliant person. And every now and then she would dust them off and the dust would get in her eyes.

" _If you ever need anything, I will be to your side instantly, always," Alexander told her, taking her hand and placing a lingering kiss on the top of her hand one last time. He must remember every kiss they shared, her soft skin, her eyes…_

 _"Of course. I pray you the best, and that you find happiness once more. Life's too short, Alex. You were made for happiness and to love. Have faith, and I will be here for you if you need."_

 _He pulled away from her hand, stepped back, and bowed this time with a smile though half forced. He knows he must accept things as they are now._

 _Watching him walk out her tent, her eyes finally acknowledged that he does indeed love too much. One could see it in his eyes, where he kept all the hearts he put ahead of his own, even if he didn't have most or any of them..._

Benjamin. Brilliant, bold, brave, beguiling—Her heart beats with his just as he said in one of his letters to her. She is his and he is hers, now, except for not officially courting in her parents and the public's eyes but that will change in time. Alexander out of her mind replaced with the face of Ben smiling like the very spy prince he is, holding her hand with his perfect hands, strength and vulnerability in his stare, and kissing her with his shy yet confident lips. Oh, what a stranger he is to her still.

Before she ended it with Alex, she only focused on the surface of things other than the depths of the ring—and finding new intelligence and waiting for Ben and Caleb to return from their mission. And as her father said, he had kept things from her for reason until now.

"See her not castin' glances anymore ove' her shoulder? She's happy to see Major Tallmadge more now," Ashley comments with a knowing face.

"No she's not," Maria corrects the young woman. "We stay until the end of winter. Start of spring is far enough, our job is done here soon. Just waiting on some men to be chosen for the escort home."

Lillian licks her lips, disappointed at the fact she won't see Ben after the attack but at winter of this year now, like always, and Caleb still hasn't returned from retrieving Abe! If he succeeded, he better not be dead, or if he lived, he better not be drinking at some tavern he always mentions.

Feeling a warm hand on her arm, she looks to Caty with a small smile.

"At least during your absence Benjamin will probably take the chance to ask your father the first question out of two," Caty waggles her eyebrows.

"True. I just hope it's either before the attack or after, praying he'll be alright. I won't be here for the wounded as I thought I would. Why can't I stay like you? Like you can with your husband?"

"Well, I'm sure you can stay, since you are a nurse and a handmaiden every now and then respectively. Even just being _the daughter of Washington_ , your presence gives everyone hope and sanity," Caty replies. "I'm surprised you haven't stayed longer already. But if you do stay you must be sure you will be busy when not and to be the lady you are during whatever trying times come. Summers are long, and fall is worse before winter sets in. They fight as much as they can and move constantly. Not as ordered and planned as things are now before summer. I'm sure you knew this already, Miss Washington, forgive me for saying what's already on your mind."

"No, it's fine," Lillian shakes her head staring down at her pile of folded and clean clothes.

Maria folds the last pair of trousers in her stack, and looks up from under her purple head wrap, "Why can't you stay? Ask your mama."

"I will. My father even, if I can. I think I'd be able to keep up," Lillian looks past Maria, beaming at the sight of Benjamin across the way, standing in place with other men of his dragoon. He caught her eye lingeringly before being pulled into conversation. "My mother shouldn't mind at all."

"But?"

"I don't wish to be a burden on these men to look after me and not prolong my stay as we originally planned at the start of this war. No matter what I do here if I stay I will have to be guarded more than I am now. Not just Derik but a troop," Lillian looks away from Ben, to finish her folding and think to herself. "My father or mother doesn't need this worry."

 _But something is telling me I should stay. I'm missing too much._

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

Eventually Ben came and got me, but not after folding laundry or when I went back to my tent for tea and lunch with mother, but while I was with Colonel Bradford in the meeting tent all the officer's share.

"Miss Washington, I assure you I am well," Colonel William Bradford devilishly smolders at me as he goes to stand up from sitting atop the table. His shaggy cut hair styled slick and smooth, and flipped over his part in a wave. The direction it falls leads one to look him right in the eyes, like a trap… _Like a snake_. This is what every girl thinks I'm sure once they see him, and they fall for him, but I can see right through him easily.

"If you are well then why was I called here _immediately_ for much discomfort?" I question him with a frown for wasting my time and energy giving him basically a routine check-up, ignoring his strange behavior.

He rubs a hand across his neck and jaw, sighing and looking down nonchalantly before looking back up at me, recognizing my tone that all too familiar sounds like my father's, "Because my mind is much discomforted with an uncomfortable thought, of course. Of you and your well-being the longer you stay after winter. Its mid-spring now. It isn't any of my business I know, but being an officer beneath your father and acting alongside him, I feel it is an open responsibility to look after you. This time of year, at this country's state is when us men grow more dangerous, and bear dark thoughts."

Exactly as I was talking about earlier. But dark thoughts? Like war or… _worse_ things…

I nod my head once all ladylike and smile gratefully, "I see. Sir, I am acutely aware of the impending battles and dangers to come if I remained. However, there is no need to worry over me because I will be leaving soon, perhaps in the following week if men can be appointed to escort my mother and I home."

"Oh well, that's good news!" Bradford laughs, but quickly covers it with a cough to regain composure. "Hopefully some can be spared, even the soldiers you've rather come to know during your welcoming stays. They can be trusted as you have a good eye for the good ones."

I shake my head looking down, never noticing his shameless glance at my actual _stays_ when he said 'during your welcoming stays.' Letting a laugh escape me, "I've come to know everyone in this camp, and each of them are wonderful people. For an extra bonus in pay I'm sure some trustworthy men will offer their time."

"Indeed, that's a fair answer," he agrees with a chuckle.

I found myself continuing, explaining the predicament to him, "But even if the current ones who have always escorted us back aren't one-hundred percent well by then, as they are older and slower with recovering from their sicknesses, then I shall gladly wait if my father wishes. I trust no dangers will befall me with all of you around. However, I am thankful most have recovered from their ongoing ailments."

"Oh, we are all thankful. And no trouble will ever meet you, my lady," he nods, stepping closer to me in his partially unbuttoned white waistcoat. I go to turn back and pick up his blue coat to hand to him, but he doesn't take it just yet. "I'll make sure of it. Lee and I are most grateful for your benefit to sustain our men's lives. You are the reason he took control of half the army."

"I am?" My eyebrows furrow as a wave of success and pride fills me and I hear the tent flap pull open on our side but I don't look to see who it is.

"We- I cannot express my thanks enough. This will carry our army to the end of this war, guaranteed. You are a marvelous lady, Miss Washington, you have no idea what you spark in men," his eyes gain a glint in them when he turned to see who had entered. "I'm sorry we've never spoken much before, but it was time I told the beautiful symbol of our beautiful country. If you are to stay long, I wish for us to already have been well-acquainted so that any other point in time we meet, we won't be so shy."

I glance to my right and see no other than Benjamin, removing his plumed helmet and holding it at his side, revealing a stern soldier's face of duty, but his eyes hold jealousy and no good conviction towards the man. _Ben I am aware you dislike him but I didn't think this much._ Then it dawned that Bradford is indeed flirting with me!

"I'm sorry to disturb your consult, _sir_ ," Ben almost bites out and I subtly frown and blink at him speaking to Bradford as if the man oversees him. "But you wished to see me."

"We were just wrapping up," Bradford had buttoned his shirt by the time Ben finished speaking. "Thank you again, my lady. Take care," Bradford reaches for my hand as I turn back to his grinning face, and he places a kiss on my knuckles.

"Sir," I bow my head, forcing a friendly smile and walk towards the table to retrieve my untouched bag, as I only took out the metal plate and tiny gavel to check his breathing. I dropped my smile as I wasn't facing Bradford anymore, but glanced at Ben whose eyes were watching my every move as I left.

I was the hen in the rooster's roost.

* * *

 **Ben's POV**

I watched Lillian gather her things and walk out while holding eye contact with her. Bradford was staring at her leaving form as well, and only smirking back at me once she was gone. The wave of protectiveness washed over me reminding me of the time in Setauket, watching her across the muddy street from Caleb and I, and the redcoat Baker staring after her fondly. That day finding her there made both our hearts stop. Caleb and I that is.

 _But back to this bastard and git._ How brave he was to kiss her hand in front of me with that sinful glint in his eyes. I'm aware I missed a good portion of their conversation, which the moment I leave I'll find Lillian and have her tell me everything. But nothing but the memory of _that night_ replayed in my mind when Bradford bashed her and her father's honor. How is he so _nice_ to her now? Has he ever spoken to her before? Alone, even?

 _Oh but that fight_! My blood was boiling. And this was long before I knew I held stronger feelings towards the General's daughter. It is in Bradford's good fortune I am maintaining this fake friendly façade as I know he is as well. We had agreed to put our differences behind us, be professional and to fight the real enemy, King George's footmen, but if anything befell upon Lilly I swear I'd ensure my last punch would knock him out for good next time. Maybe even a bullet!- Oh no. No, I can't do that act. Or duel. It is not in my nature. Not that any harm would come to her by Bradford's doing, but this goes to show how much I despise the man. His chumminess with Lee—

"It turns out I don't need you Benjamin," Bradford announces, slipping his blue coat back on. "Not yet because the messenger hasn't returned with updates as I thought he'd be here by then."

"I was taken from my dragoon with urgency-" _Bastard cutting me off like that._

"You were all doing nothing, I'm sure. Waiting on orders with the same provisions as a few days ago? Going around the same bush more than twice? Oh, but it is all urgent Benjamin no matter what it is. It is with Washington, isn't it? And as I'm in charge as well, the same urgency for every little event is to be expected. I thought you'd know that from being his Head of Intelligence?"

I seal my lips shut, biting my lower lip but I maintain a neutral face feeling my blood boil further. He thinks I do nothing! He did not have to be so condescending and cynical, but I make no argument for the better, "My mistake, sir."

Bradford crosses his arms in front of him, assessing me, "I called upon Miss Washington for a checkup. Just routine and to catch her before she leaves the coming week, supposedly."

"Yes, as a handful of other men are as well," I reply with a loose smile. "I'll take my leave then, now, sir." He didn't bow his head back, but he waved his hand in dismiss of me.

I left the tent with air once more in my lungs, and I finally grit my teeth and shut my eyes after ten steps away from the entrance. Yes, I counted.

"Benjamin!" Lillian's voice sings in my ears making me lose my bitter face, and I glance to my left side and beam at her smiling face.

"Beautiful," the word falls slowly from my lips without any control, and I grow hard at her pink blush and starry eyes.

"Is it safe to see each other now?" she asks glancing around.

"Come this way," I take her hand before retracting it quickly and offer my arm instead. "Nearer to my dragoons in case a fight breaks out I'll have men at my back defending me."

"Ben!" She raises her left hand to swat my arm, but I grab it before touch, and place it above our already laced arms making her pout adorably. "I should have seen that coming."

We made it near the back of some tents, further away from her father's and the meeting space. Of course there are men around, but they are busy with their assignments and some preparing meals, and I spy Derik near my dragoon and our horses. That devoted man wouldn't tell a soul why we're together, and I hardly ever speak to him. Now that I am closer with Lillian, I will have to make effort to know the servant who is always near her for her security.

"Finally, we can speak. I apologize for the measures I'm taking and it hurts being away from you when you're so close by and we can almost have a chance to speak-" my eyes darted down to her lips where she places two fingers, kissing them, and then placing the two fingers above my parted lips softly.

"You ramble so much, and speak so quick sometimes," she laughs at my understanding nod. "You're keeping me safe and I thank you."

I wave off her thanks, as much as its appreciated and taken to heart, she doesn't have to thank me and she knows such. We have more to talk about than thanking one another. Though not being able to kiss her left me a bit downhearted.

"He didn't do anything to me Ben, only when you walked in and he kissed my hand farewell," she dove into explaining what happened seeing my concerned face.

"Sorry, I was thinking of something else. What did you discuss? Well, first, was it really a 'routine checkup'?"

"No, I was told it was immediate attention for discomfort, but when I got there he looked well. So I checked his breathing which was well-"

"- _unfortunately_ ," I mutter under my breath with frenzied thoughts of Bradford.

"But when I asked about such claim for discomfort, he said his mind is 'much discomforted with an uncomfortable thought of me and my well-being the longer I stay after winter.' "

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

Ben's bright blue eyes hold many racing thoughts, already thinking of Bradford's words deeply.

I continued, "He knows it's not any of his business, but being an officer beneath my father and acting alongside him, he feels it's an open responsibility to look after me. He said these words exactly, 'this time of year, at this country's state is when us men grow more dangerous and bear dark thoughts.' "

"Lillian, I don't know if you're thinking what I am, but that does not sound good. He sounds suspicious," he licks his lips, blinking while looking down at the helmet he is holding at his side. "The fact he called upon you, then me at the same time for absolutely nothing… well, possibly not just nothing for you."

"He began flirting when you walked in, and nothing more. It doesn't have anything to do with _us_ , does it? It's been a little over a month now, two," I ask thinking deeper with him.

"No, he doesn't know of us, no one. Not even Caleb, who's still missing which is another story. Did you tell anyone?"

"No. My hand maiden Maria and Ashley know we have a liking to each other, though."

He nods, "As long as they don't know we're… together. Sort of secretly courting. Damn I feel like a child saying that. Pardon my language."

I laugh making him blush at what should have been unfitting for my ears, "Pardoned. Well, it's better to be young and not old."

"True," his eyes twinkle as he replied before I could continue with a highly likely theory in mind. "It just—it may not affect you as much as me, but it hurts we can't freely be seen together."

"Ben of course it hurts me too, but it will not be that way for long. Besides, back to our strange encounter, Bradford knows of us always together when we were with Mr. Sackett and Caleb. He's familiar with me and you. So… he did that to affirm his own beliefs…"

Ben steps closer to me, "He's plotting something-"

"Miss Washington, this is for you. You saved me the walk up to your tent," a messenger dressed in his blue coat and red trim with a tricorn above his head hands me a letter with a polite smile.

"Thank you," I smile back, then locking eyes with Ben once more who is trying not to look worried in front of me going by his lips pursing and un-pursing.

Before I continued with opening the letter, for just a second I looked at Ben who was looking pensively off to the side at the bark of a tree until the messenger walked off out of earshot. The sunlight dances across his plaited, golden brown hair (the color of mine), but soon the sun was blocked by a cloud and his hair returned to a solid brown and then his vibrant, intense, boyish eyes found mine. No longer a pensive face, but adoringly curious.

"It's from New York, Freddy's handwriting," I eye with interest opening the letter, having to look away for just the moment. But as I unfold the paper we both see it is blank.

"He used the ink," Ben and I say in unison.

"Well that timed out perfectly, would you join me to my tent? It is safe I deem, for this," He holds up his arm once more with anxious eyes and I gladly take it.

"Yes, Major."

* * *

He let go of my arm so he could hold the tent flap open for me to enter first. Then I'm greeted with the almost familiar sight of his cluttered space, flat dirt mat, and wrinkly made bed cot.

Turning around immediately after closing the flap, his left arm wraps around my waist, and his right hand cups my face when he brings our lips together in a pleasant, chaste kiss.

The 'smacking' sound our lips make when they part makes me tingle in delight, and only the softest sigh escaped my lips accidentally. Ben's gulp at this makes me giggle the slightest.

"The sweetest sound in the world. Never thought I could elicit such a response from a woman."

"Oh Ben, the ink! Business time," I remind him with a heated blush.

He walks right over to his desk with the letter to apply the reagent, "I know. But two seconds can be spared to share a kiss with one another. It's been some time."

Feeling brave at the swell in my heart of his charm and sweetness, I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist, tantalizingly feeling how lean he is underneath all his fittings. Only then it hit me how more forward we both are and we aren't even courting yet! Perhaps it's because we've been friends all this time, unlike Alexander. I suppose Baker and I were this close too, but even we didn't court yet! As always, something always felt different with Ben. It is safe to say that I believe we were meant to be. We understood each other even when we didn't know one another fully.

"Yes. But it worries me how you'll be when I do go. One day we will be able to kiss every moment, and that is the happy thought I cling to. I thank you for being proper," I comment with a smile, and let out a contented sigh when he places his hands above mine on his stomach after applying the reagent. His gentle hands above mine, that's the sweetest feeling in the world. Everyone's hands I've held or have touched mine are different, but his are entirely. They are dangerously rough (dangerous mostly because I know very little of him still), covered in old splashes of mud, but they are his. Ben's spy working hands crafted this entire ring and keeps a steady hand on the pommel of his sword alert always, unlike much of the officers I've seen of late just folding their hands behind their backs.

Waiting for it to dry he pulls me gently in front of him, brushing my hair behind my ear even if no strands were loose in my up do, to exclaim, "Of course. But one day is nearer than you think. If things look up, and results of the battle to come are good, I will ask your father for permission to court you as it is in both our etiquette. And with Bradford now, I'm worried of you being a target…"

I frown when he trailed off and didn't finish, clearly hearing the hurt in his voice to nearly say what I think he was about to say.

"Well if there is a scheme cooking up, I shouldn't be here any longer-"

"-I really meant that you'd be a target of his affections... Your father will prefer him over me. He is a colonel, after all."

I gape at him, "Now where would you get that absurd idea? Ben, colonel or not doesn't matter or any standing! Not only will that _not_ happen because it's very unlikely to me and I do not want him in my life, but my father knows good people. You are good, and with how you view Bradford, I'm confident my father shares the same view. I would think you would be still confident as well. Bradford cannot fancy me anyway, he has the women lined up much like Lee does at the taverns. Hardly the type of man for me, and I not the type of lady for him."

His eyebrow quirked up, his eyes soaking in all my reassuring words he needs leaves me a bit dry in the mouth. He has no need to get jealous so quickly! After all, he has my heart and I have his.

His jaw clenches as he nods his head more than once to assure me, "I am confident, but I am just thinking of the possibilities—"

"Possibilities?! There are no other possibilities, I'm through with men. You're… it."

His face began glowing like the spark between us, growing ever brighter with a radiance in his light blue eyes, his nostrils widened while inhaling the air he remembered to breath. "I'm flattered you say so, Lilly. I mean was is if I am not approved worthy to even be considered a husband some years from now. The possibility if I die out there, you know that chance, I want to make sure I've done all I could have so that you don't end up with someone… else," He pauses while he leans closer to my ear, "With spying and you on top just as I wish for, I have found a neutral mindset where whatever life may bring, you will be safe and happy."

I twist my neck to pull away so I can continue with eyes locked on his once more. It's impossible to leave his gaze especially held closely in front of him, and him whispering in my ear had me in thrills I dare not describe. My how far we came from me not liking him to completely in love with him, "I won't be with no one else, don't think those thoughts. I'll be mentioning my leave more often to my father and he will round up some men quicker and I'll be out the way so that we'll be operating safely apart. I'll let him know since… you can't."

It's his turn to frown now, surprised at my want for leaving, "You're not in the way of anything, I didn't mean to worry you. Either way he's busy figuring out who is safe with you or not mixed with whatever else he is planning for the coming attack. If I wasn't needed here despite not being his deemed eyes and ears anymore, I'd take you away from here myself with one of my troops. It dried..."

"But you _are_ his deemed eyes and ears… Leaving in secret with no permission will get you court martialed. Don't you dare do that," I look down at the table with a troubled mindset and pick up the letter, holding it between us to read together:

 _Lillian,_

 _An acquaintance of mine who I had taken up with to find something of importance deeper in the higher up British officers discussions, I've been informed of a danger. They have two men in your camp betraying your father and intend on ending his and your life._

 _I wasn't given any names, I'm writing in a rush I apologize because I am needed downstairs. I began writing this as soon as I received the letter._

 _They also claim to know Lillian Washington is not 'Lillian Kennedy', hence the intel they've stolen a while back with Sutherland's help, but, I quote, that you are the only woman with the first name in that part of the colony going by what documents they have on each of their troop's placement in each state. It is best to get rid of you or not at all, I quote._

 _I hope this reaches to you quickly. Respond back when you can so I know you're alright._

 _Then we can discuss a hair appointment, if you catch my implication._

 _Stay safe friend._

 _-freddy._

"You're Washington's daughter of course they'd try killing you! Curse that Sutherland!" Ben utters quicker than he can breathe as he sharply turns away and punches his wooden desk disrupting the swallowing silence and his huffing. "They were never supposed to know you exist!"

"Well we know for certain what is happening now! Of course, some know I exist, I said this in the beginning! But they don't know what I look like," I reassure him and myself which visibly calms him instantly at that thought. "No more wondering 'if'," I say with confidence despite the panic beginning to fester in my chest. At Freddy's words my breath got caught in my throat during reading.

"Agh! No, we're still asking 'what if' no matter what. Setauket knows your name and some know what you look like, you needed papers to get in. What if it's Bradford? What if it's Lee? Or neither of them?"

"What if it's both, Ben! I think we can both agree they are the two behind it. I only met Abe and his wife, and Baker," he brushes the one tear that fell out of my eye quickly. "I'm not upset; my eyes are... dripping at the tension and I'm nervous. There's lots of pollen floating about too."

"Alright, alright," he takes his hands away innocently but only to place them at my sides once more, this time with a steadying and reaffirming grip, briefly wondering if this is what his sword feels every day and moment. His sword _always_ at his side, always being _held_ by him... Maybe one day I'll be his sword. My thumb tightly holding the letter creates an indent.

"Don't be nervous. Lilly at this rate we can't guess who for now but continue taking the precautions I have been, and double it as we hope for confirmation on some names. We just need to get you out of here soon. I have some men and I'll have you take their names to your father—that'd be wiser than… you know. I'm not losing to gain anymore or going against your father's wishes. Perhaps this could help redeem myself."

He holds up a finger and turns away anxiously, reaching for some parchment, and with his quill he dips it in ink and begins writing names of a few men in his dragoon. _Oh Ben, if only you knew what my father thinks of you. And why can't you believe me on what I do say?_

"But what if that's what _they_ want…" I shake my head, changing my words. "I don't feel any safer without you near me."

His eyes squeeze shut as his heart aches, feeling that longing increase its tight clutch on his whole torso, and he blinks away the tears in his eyes to focus, "I know, I know. But it won't be any safer if I were near you, I'd say. They know I'm the head of it all, even if I'm not currently. May Mr. Sackett rest in peace."

"Bradford knows you care for me. And the way he spoke to me hinted that he knows I'm close with only a few," I carefully get my words out without having my voice break as it feels it's about to do. "He says I have 'a good eye for the good ones.' As for what we were saying before we got into the tent, he wanted to see our reaction with each other when you walked in on us!"

"Lillian, let's let it go for now," His snapping tone made me freeze. "I will handle this."

Going from tender to stand-offish, his whole glow about him clouding. This is a new side to him I'm experiencing. I still have much to learn about him which doesn't help any, so this severe tone he used with me surprises me some, but I try not taking it personally much like I did Baker when he walked in on me in his bathroom. Well, Abe's bathroom of his _burned down_ house. But this time I'm older and it's a different man I have in my life. It is a tone of a hard-working and superior army Major yet it is his caring, loving self. This… manly and not so boyish side is what he becomes when I am not around, and this thought only makes me want to reconsider leaving soon. I will be in the way and distract him. _I can't lose him_.

Ben is young like I, but man or not everyone grows up quickly in our time. Therefore, I am also reconsidering any attempts of courting any time soon… Ben comes off as the type to have space and no commitments except to the most important thing on his plans, which is winning the fight and war along with growing up at a steady yet rapid rate with the rest of the young men. And when he is ready, he'll act. I just should stand aside, stand alone, and wait. That's when being the perfect lady comes in, and I have no misgivings about that.

Yes, courting doesn't have to happen now, but even this summer if he is able to ask my father I'm not sure if I could accept. It's not if I _would_ because I do. I don't want him to die and I will forever be heartbroken—well, either way I will be heartbroken together or not—then I don't want us to brush heads and grow apart, and fall out of love with him like Alexander Hamilton.

"Lillian?" Ben heard my deep sigh and turned to meet my pensive gaze with a calmer face than before, but his eyes still hold anxiety from all before and shown in his tight grip on his quill. "What is it?"

"It's nothing to worry about now, Ben. I promised I'd say things that are important to the cause, but this isn't. I assure you."

He sets his quill down, and his eyebrows furrow knowing I'm acting strange. _Oh, Ben_!

"Everything on your mind that is troubling you is important, especially to me. You can tell me everything."

"It's not—not like that. This really is unimportant, for now."

Ben tosses the quill down carelessly, the sound a 'thwack' against the wood, and takes my arms gently once more and pulls me in front of him.

"Trapping me in your hold won't get me to reveal everything."

He smirks devilishly playing along with my words, looking like the wild yet cultured man I fell for, "I am no enemy, _Miss._ By order I can have you tried for-"

"Benjamin! This isn't funny!" I ironically say letting out a little laugh. "I'm no hostage!"

"Using my full name when upset now? No, you're no hostage nor am I an enemy. Now with those thoughts, what are we, truly, my lady?" His voice lowers. Ben's entire essence calms and his light blue irises shine with adoration.

I lift both my hands between us and place either hand on his arms, "We are meant to be. I know it. Though… I don't want us to grow apart, or fail. With little instances, we can speak…ingenuously, I feel we will never get to know one another more. Mostly me getting to know you. You know my entire story and I don't want to just be known and… the chance of being tossed aside."

"You think that? That I'd be bored with you and toss you aside?" he pauses as his eyes search my face with a leveled gaze. For once I am thankful I wore some higher heels. It helps with the ground all muddy so the entire shoe doesn't submerge if I mistakenly step into a sloppy area. "I suppose… you have some right to feel that way. I know, I understand. And I want to tell you, do not take my words wrong. But I'm just very focused on the tasks at hand and making sure your father sees me—sees me as… good. Then once we begin courting and actually allowed to walk around and be with each other on a more personal note, we won't be strangers anymore. But we will never fail or grow apart nor will I not fall out of love with you. I can't do that."

Just as I figured, I lowered my head and my lips smooth over one another, glossing them to rid of dryness I began to feel, "I understand."

"Is that all what was on your mind?" He nods his head slowly, looking down and to the side, blinking once in thought. Not the deep, careful thinking like Alexander, but quick, and to the point. "I want more than anything to just stay in here and talk with you forever, and let you get to know me and my family and my rough childhood days with Caleb. But now I'm afraid isn't the right time and place. And we've been in here a while already. I don't wish for Bradford or any bad fly to spy you out here with me-"

"-routine checkup? They don't know what I'm doing here-"

"-You don't have your things with you. Which, where are they? You had them when you left the meeting space."

I answer, "With Derik," greatly enjoying this fast-paced conversation. Not that I don't like our tender, slow ones, but the quick ones keep myself from going mad over not speaking of everything but serious and realistic things, like the war and spy ring. I immediately settle myself with the thought that I must accept things as they are, and know—have faith—that we will work out.

"Lillian, you must believe me. I'm not putting you aside like Lt. Colonel Hamilton had done, nor are you distracting me. I promise you it will work. I'll make it work because I love you."

The word promise would have sent tears flying out my eyes and sobbing at all the faces (who promised me- my real parents, Nathan Hale, Baker, Patsy) that would have crossed my mind if I didn't just think these previous thoughts of having faith and thinking positive.

His reaffirming grip on my hand and his confident patriot blue eyes had me reeling and believing him. And _he loves me._

"I do believe you. I love you too. Okay," I nod my head twice more before letting him pull me to his also patriot blue chest, his coat warm and inviting against my cheek, and I rest my head on his chest while his chin is atop my head in a temporary peace.

* * *

"Mother, Father," I begin and get their attention around mid-day. My father with us more recently since my mother and I are supposed to leave and not see him until the coming winter once more. Now my father sits behind his desk, but he is only reading out of a book, and some papers on the side.

"Yes, dear?" my father answers instead of my mother, as I was expecting. I glance over at her on a plush chair sipping some coffee, her feet propped up ladylike on a tiny foot stool. The papers she finished organizing for him on the side, not ready to be handled by my father yet.

"Is it too much to ask something, I pray it's not silly to ask."

I glance back to my father just when he looks up from his reading, his thoughtful dark eyes more searching than when they are under his tricorn. He always wore a thoughtful face when he addressed me or if I spoke to him about whatever and whenever.

"Would it be wrong, or would it be allowed for me to stay with you this time? Maybe until after winning Monmouth?"

I heard my mother set her cup down and my father actually let out a chuckle.

"Don't speak so soon, my sweet. But yes, that is our hopes if all goes according to plan," he begins breathily and quietly. Such a quiet voice it rivals the slowly burning candle flame that barely dances side to side. "Why would you not want to return with your mother to Mt. Vernon?"

"There is supposed to be a ball at our house, remember, darling? Or do you not want to dress up all summer?" My mother smiles coming up by my side and beckons me to sit on one of the three chairs in front of my father's desk.

"No, it isn't that. I wish for there to be a ball as well and be able to attend it, and with father there, hopefully," I spare looking back to my father sadly, knowing he can't travel all the way back home still. "But I feel I'm not doing my part as you and I discussed, mother. I wish to be here for the possible wounded and help my father keep things organized. I suppose I am tired of the journey here and back right after winter and at the very beginning of winter, too." My mother's hand reaches over and rests on my lap, an approving smile on her face!

"I have no qualm with you staying here this time. I know… what special _duties_ you have. You will be safe under your father's care and a servant, most likely Ashley because Maria is needed for head of house work back at home, and Derik needs to tend to the horses—his little brother James will have to do."

"Thank you, that'll be just fine. Then the usual life-guard at my flank. I will wake up early as I must and not be a burden on anyone and do my proper duties. Whatever you wish for me to complete," I smile at her thankfully and amused that she is planning as she rambled on. Then turning back to my father, who has his hands folded in front of him on his desk, and ponders deeply going by the tight set frown of his forced, curled back lips, and pock-marked face for the moment looking smooth as chalk in the dim light. "Father?"

" _At your flank_ , you have been here a while, haven't you?" He smirks. "Giving your opinion and keeping us sane, keeping me sane and _safe_ ," I force a cringe away when he said safe. Ben told me after our moment's embrace not to say anything about the intelligence Freddy sent me. I pray Ben has a well-thought out plan for this. Well, if my father can have me keep a secret from Ben, then Ben can have me keep a secret from my father. How strange, wrong, but mostly strange how it sounds going behind my father's back. But I'm not, I'm keeping him safe and myself.

"Perhaps I have been purposely slow to finding the right men to escort you and your mother home. I see now it has been worth it, and I am pleased to hear you wish to stay with me, Lilly."

"Really?"

His head stiffly bows, his lips turning into a small smile I've always been familiar with when he approves of something or agrees, "Even if Patsy were here, I'd wish for both my girls to stay—well, Martha too," he spares a fond look to my mother, not forgetting her. "Because I truly need you here for as long as I'm here and the extra hands for the busy warmer seasons. But I will still have men picked out should the need arise for you to be brought home in turn. You will stay until the outcome of Monmouth is seen. Then, if we win, you will stay with us til the end of this year's winter. If not you will be returned home, for your safety because I do not wish for you to be… caught, so to say, if our loss is an unfortunate one."

"Of course, father. Thank you," I smile back at him after he finished his breathy monologue as if he had these words written in his heart long ago.

* * *

 **Mt. Vernon**

The blacksmith whistles and hums finishing up his work in the dusty shed filled with processed farm tools, building tools, nails, but most importantly some swords which are kept beneath his work table hidden underneath a cloth.

Fireflies outside the window and two candles on either side of him with a dying orange glow on small blade being forged, these were his only sources of light. The small blade being the specially equipped hair tools (a finer shaving blade than the first one and because it is too strange to receive the same hair tool twice in the mail on either side, and even a pipeclay curler) for Freddy that his young master Miss Lillian had asked of him to make.

In the process of picking up the hot shaving blade with tongs, the blacksmith's dark face beads with sweat and a proud smile adorns his face of his peculiar and fine creation. If it wasn't for Miss Lillian, he'd be making the regular everyday living tools for the rest of his life. She opened his mind to the possibilities that can be made, by his own hands when he thought he was limited—

He drops his tongs and the dull shaving blade at the sharp pressure on the back of his head and a person scuffling behind him.

"What the-" the blacksmith takes off the hat above his head to see the person better in the dim light, but found he couldn't, especially when this person knocks him out with the butt of a gun, the metal forger flying back against his wooden table, hat thrown aside his back cracking at impact and falling on the ground.

"You won't be helping the Patriot cause no longer. No more aid from Miss Washington!" the murderer shouts turning his gun back around, clicking it, and shooting the unconscious blacksmith dead.

 **A/N: ... Sorry for the dark cliffhanger on this one. More coming your way in part 2! It's typed up, proofing it now, it will be up soon, stay tuned! :) Thank you for your wonderful reviews and for sticking with me!**


	30. Chapter 30: Gunpowder, Treason, Plot pt2

**Chapter 30: Gunpowder, Treason, and Plot- Part 2.**

"Monmouth Courthouse," Charles Lee begins to revise the plan. "The surrounding farmland will leave Clinton's baggage train exposed. We can pin his rearguard between the tree line here whilst the rest of the division encircles them from the left."

"He'll have the surprise of his life, sir," Colonel William Bradford agrees with the ready general.

Benjamin, meanwhile, thinks negative of all of this so he steps closer to speak up, "I fear surprise will not be a factor. Sir, our main body is so large that any element of surprise will surely be lost."

"We don't need surprise," Lee mumbles low surprisingly clear enough for all six men to hear. "For the first time in this bloody conflict, we have the numbers—nearly 6,000 to their 1,500."

"How have you come by that number, sir?" Ben asks with squinted eyes, highly curious. The Major had no clue how childish he looked peering at the general in such an interrogative way. This however makes Bradford shift his feet whilst smirking. Lee only responds with a thoughtful smile towards the Major and takes a few steps closer to the young man.

"Tallmadge, I would've hoped that General Washington would've impressed upon you that the key to victory lies in having the _correct_ intelligence. I learned these numbers from my scouts, of course."

Ben could hardly believe his ears, once more. How much Lee's words reminded him of Bradford's was unsettling and very strange. It not only disturbed him to no end that he didn't expect Lee to speak to him as so, but the fact he let him, general or not. Corrupted (as much as he knows it—though not proven to Washington much to his disgruntlement) or not.

"And have they told you where Cornwallis is? If he counters our charge, we may not be able—"

"By the time Clinton and Cornwallis bring up their columns, I'll have decimated their rear. The regiments will be able to hold the rest until Washington arrives."

"Of course, with our esteemed commander and his healing protégé camped back at Rocky Hill, he's likely to miss the whole show. No healing to be done," Bradford comments eliciting a chuckle from Charles Lee. The air only grew denser when Lee looks back at Ben humorously. _Nothing is humorous about this… Especially the part that Washington allowed Lillian to stay and come along..._

 _Benjamin looked on at Mrs. (Lady) Washington be escorted into her fine high-dollar carriage with confusion. As much as he glanced back and forth between Lillian and George Washington waving one last time to Lady Washington, he couldn't understand how or why the young woman remained when it was her time to return to Mt. Vernon and assume her prominent role from afar. It is after all where she receives the most of her mail, perhaps she has someone to forward it to camp securely. He must give her some credit for her thinking ahead perfectly. He even had his recent letter lined up to send to her about how much longer he will wait until his hollow dagger, made by the Washington's blacksmith, will be shipped to the camp. But that is no longer necessary, he can simply ask her… privately._

 _He had always missed the departure of both Washington ladies' due to being kept in meetings, with his dragoons going over recent orders and drills, or on patrol. But that morning of all mornings he was watching on with the other fellow soldiers for once, not cooped up with higher ups, and watched on with both confusion and adoration at the young Miss Washington. Yes, some soldiers Ben had caught the battle worn eyes of were looking at Lillian with adoration of actual love, perhaps lust, or plain esteem in general. The 'love' made him nervous, the 'lust' made him mad, but the 'esteem' the majority give her in their words and just silent stares makes himself swell with such liveliness that he has this woman's heart, and she his heart._

'Of course', this is where mind overcomes heart, sadly. Benjamin shakes his head slightly at the brief mention of Lillian in this current meeting he is in. Once again, unnecessary for her to be mentioned out of the blue, especially by no other than William Bradford. If his helmet weren't at his side or the other hand holding the pommel of his sword in a relaxed manner, he'd be clenching his fists. _Calm down, it's not polite, or gentlemanly,_ he thinks.

While Ben is greatly overjoyed he can see Lillian more now and during the war, the fact that she will be here for war and watch him fly off his horse from a bullet or lose blood in a medical tent if he does perish was the last thing Ben wanted, for himself and herself. _If_ he happened to perish out there. But if they win, he can see her til the end of the next coming winter—an entire year! And for her safety, his heart with his mind in this one, he privately has a few of his dragoon men on lookout for her as well next to Washington's Life Guard. Not that the guard wouldn't protect Washington's daughter with their life, but for extra precaution… _Extra, extra, and extra-_

But as for this current plan he is hearing, no one can be blind to how suspicious this whole plan sounds. There's holes all in it! And that's what Ben is trying to get the current general in front of him (if he doesn't know so already), and the other present officers to see.

Benjamin nods his head and tries to remind Charles Lee, "Then perhaps we should wait for the reinforcements that Washington—"

Lee begins with a sullen frown which soon grows into a wry smirk, "Perhaps you should ready your dragoons. They have the honor of leading the van. You get to be _tip_ of the spear, Major."

"Yes, sir," is all Ben says after looking between the two infuriating men who need no reminding or his final word. It took a lot to speak out as so, even the current officers within the tent looked at him strangely or shocked.

Seeing this, his jaw taut and firm with a closed lip frown, he bows his head politely to Lee before turning to leave. In some ways, one would argue he got what he wanted, being a 'glory hound' for the first time in his life and while serving, but Ben was far from getting what he wanted on the table.

The American flag flaps behind him from above when he exits the tent. The stripes and stars whipping with the dry wind on the overcast day which is the opposite of everyone's current mood before a battle.

He grasped his helmet to himself and hurried out the tent. Echoed orders were being shouted all around camp and the controlled chaos of breaking camp and getting ready to quick march was descending.

Ben headed off towards the area where he had last seen his horse be taken to while dodging men and women hurrying on their way. Gunpowder and musket balls were being filled and portioned out by a few in camp to their fellow soldiers. Now securing his helmet on his head, he found the six cavalrymen lingering on or near their steeds. It looked like his own packs, saddle, and bridle had not been removed from his horse and that his horse had been fed and watered before the call to break camp was given.

He then informed his unit that they would be leading while he removed the unnecessary packs that would only weigh down his horse and ensuring that extra gunpowder and musket balls were within his remaining packs, strapped down and ready. Finally, he could step up into the stirrup and swung himself up and over. The others followed in his wake and a few minutes later, they were ready to ride.

* * *

" _Flank formation!"_

A year ago, had anyone told Ben that he would be sitting on his horse, getting ready to directly charge into British lines, he would have thought them incredibly addled in the mind. Or drunk. Or just mad with fever. A year ago, just as the winter was thawing and coming fresh off their victory at Trenton and Princeton, all their lives had changed. Now, with summer arriving if not already here by this hell of a heat, Ben was sitting on his trusty steed, staring down at the approaching British lines on this formerly rainy and cloudy day quite afraid but ready to challenge them.

"My God, they're ready for us," Ben mutters to himself.

Well, it was a stretch to say that he was unafraid, for even with reassurances by his Sergeant and James, the younger brother of Lillian's servant Derik who had informed him on his way out of camp that he had personally seen to his horse, he still had some doubts.

The rain had stopped only an hour ago, but in that hour, scouts had returned and informed Charles Lee that British forces were moving. Ben could feel the impatience within his horse as it stamped a foreleg on the muddy ground while snorting.

* * *

 ** _Earlier that day…_** **Rocky Point**

The other half of the Continental camp sits in Rocky Point with every man lining up for one last time in preparation, checking their muskets, pistols, cannons, and bayonets, and others scurry about dismantling tents and echoing orders of marching out to Monmouth just across the way in the county over.

Lillian was more than ready as she could only look on outside her father's tent with the Life Guard behind her on either side of the entrance of the tent. She eyed even the women carrying their packs and bundles of fabric under their arms, in baskets, or across their shoulders with cooking tools or sewing needles tucked in between their folds most likely.

She kept feeling her body move forward, whether it was the wind making her shakily stand in her heeled riding boots stabbing through the mud, or it was the urge to do something helpful right now. But, she is. Assuming her ladylike role in public, as well as in private, but she has her helpful gloved hands folded in front of her which will eventually lead a soldier to the infirmary tent and she may be removing bullets. Not that they itch to do something she was skilled in doing, and doesn't mind doing, but sadly its the truth she is to give some treatment.

"Ah, 'ma lady!" Marquis de Lafayette's velvety French accent disrupts her contemplation's. His toothy smile and glossy earnest eyes making her melt, she had to smile back showing her teeth as well. The young, shy Frenchmen had a way of instantly making her feel charmed.

"Marquis— _monsieur_ , oh!" While she greets with a gasp, he hugs her considerately and pecks a kiss on her left cheek. A private gesture she was not expecting until she realized it wasn't entirely.

"I apologize Miss Washington, I 'azzumed you knew of French 'custems since you are fluent in the language," He apologizes pulling away from the hug, and folds his hands behind his back gentlemanly. "My mistake _, madame_."

She couldn't help but feel guilty for reacting shocked, and her voice in higher pitch says so, "No sir, no mistakes made. French customs have slipped my mind as I've grown used to seeing you learn American customs and the English language itself. I was startled, honestly, not expecting it. I apologize, Monsieur Lafayette."

He chuckles dismissing her words all in his facial expressions she can recognize well. Lafayette blinks as he moves his folded hands in front of him now as his eyes now dance with a youthful gaiety, and he goes to speak in waveringly quick sentences.

"No need. As you may be wondering why I have come to see you just before we ride out sometime soon. I have been told you will be accompanying us. Correct?"

"Yes, General. It is correct, surprisingly," she nods her head again to affirm it.

He nods his head in turn covering up any chuckle he was about to emit at her response, but his smile did fade to a careful line, "Indeed, but you are one of the doctors to be tending to the wounded, should there be any... wounded. But for 'ze duration of the march yous shall be riding with the Life Guard, on either side of you, behind your father, respectfully."

"Understood, Monsieur."

"I shall be near the front as well, with Colonel Hamilton you are familiar with," the Marquis bows his French cockade hatted head to the mentioned auburn haired man who walks past them both quickly to enter the tent to inform his Commanding General they are nearing ready. "To say if you had worries of z'your security for this dangerous time, they shall be no more."

Lillian's lips had relaxed during his thoughtful words, but her previous beaming smile had left when Alexander walked past them with the smallest bow to none of them in particular, just looking in the middle of them, but the uncomfortable awkwardness stemmed from the aide-de-camp was felt by them both.

"Thank you, Marquis, I appreciate you coming to inform me this. I suppose it is time—"

At this moment, she was interrupted by the Life Guard shifting their bayonets and the tent flap opening at the same time to reveal her father leading the rest of the officers out. The Marquis and Lillian had turned their way, both naturally ceasing their words and straightening even straighter at His Excellency's presence—as it is proper.

"Lillian. Marquis," Washington looked to them and waved them along in gesture to walk with him and the others to their prepared mounts.

"Sir," Lafayette answers as he holds his right hand out, palm facing the cloudy sky also in gesture for Lillian to walk before him. Lillian obliged kindly as she joined the other armed and uniformed men behind her father, walking with her shoulders back, head up, and arms at the sides of her bustled skirt. If her hands were fidgeting out of this being a different experience for once, an unusual sight indeed, her light riding cloak was draped on her shoulders just right so the cloak itself hid her arms at her sides.

It almost felt different and wrong without her mother Martha walking alongside her, as she had done for one other occasion, but the rest of the time they stood side by side in the presence of the other officers. Despite, Lillian kept walking forward with the same footsteps as the men, and composed herself accordingly. This being one of those moments, her first one, to be shown as an important person amongst her father and the Continental army.

* * *

General Washington's company just crossed the border of Monmouth County when a young rosy cheeked fifer races up to the other half of their army, out of breath while clutching his fifer in his left hand.

"General, sir!"

"Why are you travelling in the wrong direction, man?" Alexander Hamilton asks as he steadies his own horse to an abrupt stop before his General could ask the same.

"Sir. We are outnumbered. I had to retreat while I could before the rest of them did as well," he answers, finally catching his breath forcibly so he could not look like a fool. He had deserted already, foolish enough, but it was urgent and perhaps the best choice he had made. Washington bit his upper lip and appeared livid as soon as the fifer had informed him they were outnumbered out there.

"Sir, it… it was a trap. Queen's Rangers were even spotted in the distance."

Before Washington glanced away from the young man, he informed him, "Join the drumline behind me and play along. We now march at a quicker pace."

"Yes sir."

* * *

"Halt!" Ben shoots his arm out with an open palm in gesture to stop. He, along with the 2nd Continental Light Dragoons' cavalry, and Bradford's cavalry were strung out in 5 rows across this massive battlefield. Continental soldiers lined in two rows each with at least thirty men per row waited behind him, while units of nine with a drummer at each end were evenly sparse throughout, ready to fight once the cavalry were stymied in their charge. It was one huge chess board, much like every battle he has seen so far.

"Dress to the right," Ben shouts near his left to the soldiers clad in solid navy with red trim.

"Sir, courier!" One of his men shout back just before the neighing of a horse is heard on his left, the direction he just turned away from facing. Low and behold, a dark clothed man wearing a wide brimmed hat is riding up between his row and speeding right towards him.

Ben had to keep squinting his eyes and blinking to see if he was indeed seeing clearly. It's his _alive_ and _beardless_ friend!

"Caleb? Caleb is that you?-" Ben is cut off and faces away from Caleb, hearing the British shout some commands across the way.

"Hey, Ben, what's new?" Caleb says out of breath far too casual for being gone for what, three months?

"Where in God's name have you been?" Ben sharply faces his friend. His white plume swishing from the front of his shoulder to his back as he looks back to the enemy and draws out his sabre. "I thought you were stuck at the bottom of New York Harbor!"

"Have I got a story for you. Read this, hang on," Caleb hands the letter over to Ben just when he gives the orders are given to move.

"Forward march!"

"Where's Washington?" Caleb asks as their horse's rock forward slowly.

"He's with the main company, a day behind us," his friend answers quieter gripping his sabre with a sweaty but sure hand.

"Ben, he's in danger. It's an inside job."

His breathing nearly stops while Ben's face drops to one of outright fear, sickly white and drained of color if he had a mirror to see for himself how he feels, "Oh, God. I knew it." He looks everywhere and in the tree lines where he believes he has caught sight of more redcoats.

"What do you mean? I just got it from Long Island," Caleb questions.

Ben with heaving breaths focused on what's ahead of him and caught the movement and sight of the bright red coats in the tree lines on either side.

"It's a trap. Lee's marching us straight into it. Halt! Halt! Halt!" Ben raises his sabre higher with a shout before giving orders quickly as he can. Meanwhile a startled Charles Lee looks on bitterly. "First company, make ready! Take aim! Fire!" Guns shoot and metal clanging follows when they refill ammunition and move around.

"Prime and reload!" The soldiers echoed the added order they know all too well, waiting for the second order once they were through, and wonder who will be taken out next after the British fired at them while doing so. Bullets whistling in the air and finding its place either in the ground or in skin made the dreary day feel cold.

"Second company! Make ready! Take aim, Fire!"

Then so fast, the men were falling back, seeing their fellow soldiers either fall dead, stand there unprepared, or simply just abandon the field at the sight of all the redcoats swarming in from all directions and shooting every second that passes.

"Hold the line! Hold the line, men!" Ben shouts encouragingly.

"Stand fast, men!" Caleb shouts above his lungs as well, his hand trying to reach for his pistol as well if it weren't for controlling his horse to turn and look at all the fleeing men, shouting for them to stay.

 _"Fall back to the trees!"_ Bradford orders from far behind, his own horse beginning to back up and turn around.

Ben and Caleb repeated themselves continually, their voices going raw just like their ears from hearing so much gun fire and men shouting to others around them to 'retreat!' or 'stay!' Unfortunately, the two of them had to give in to the wrong orders and retreat with the rest of their fellow soldiers, even those who bravely agreed to stay.

* * *

As soon as he cleared the initial brambles of wood and passed by several of the men who looked to be in a melancholic fit of spirits, "General Lee, sir!" Ben said, spotting the man and maneuvered his horse so that he stopped their advance into the woods. With Caleb at his side, he continued to say, "General Wayne, Scott and Maxwell are withdrawing through the orchard. All of our men are falling back at once."

"Yes, I know," Lee answered, halting his own horse as Ben saw Bradford give him a shrewd look. "I ordered them."

"But sir!" He exclaims alarmingly. "If we do not rally the men and hold a defensive line, we will not be able to hold them."

"Hold them? Hold them how? Clinton has sprung a trap and we are outnumbered."

"Retreat is our only option," Bradford adds quietly.

"Washington expects us to hold," Ben growls back with any brave authority he could muster.

"How dare you, _boy_!" Lee hissed before turning to Bradford and saying, "Colonel Bradford, if Major Tallmadge does not clear the road, he is to be hanged from that tree as a deserter!"

"A deserter?!" he gaped before cold fury took over his senses as he realized that Lee had absolutely no intention of turning around or winning – the man meant to surrender the army to British forces. Wouldn't _he_ be the deserter at that?

Ben not agreeing to let this happen, in a quick decisive action he drew his sabre. Even before his sabre cleared his scabbard, several other officers behind Lee, including Bradford had also drawn their sabres.

Only Caleb is on Ben's side with his flintlock pistol out ready to shoot.

Instantly, it was the sounds of drummers beating a lively cadence that shattered the silence in the air, a single fifer, and horses nickering with their hooves beating down on the earth. Then the appearance of a rather large host of blue and discolored brown clothing shattered the tension. Ben saw Lee's eyes widen slightly as he too turned and saw of all people, General Washington at the head of the army. He felt his arm gripping his sabre drop as he saw that not only was the rest of the Continental Army that had been left behind at Rocky Hill marching towards them, but all numbers riding behind their apparently hale-looking commander. And behind him was a multitude of familiar faces, including Knox, Hamilton, John Laurens, Jefferson, Lafayette, even Billy standing beside his General's horse… and surprisingly, Lillian, with an elusive face as she rides her own horse right behind her father but in between the Life Guard.

"General Lee," Washington calmly stated, halting his horse as Ben moved his own horse to the side to allow his commander through, but not before taking another quick look back and over towards those behind Washington, still in disbelief at what he was seeing and eyeing Lillian who was not looking at him, but at Charles Lee with a deep frown. Quickly he darted his eyes to look at the man as well, and looking down with a tingling chill when he felt his sabre still in hand prepared to fight back at what almost befell.

"I've heard a most disturbing report from a young fifer traveling in the wrong direction from the battle."

"Sir, I," Lee began, almost stuttering the honorific, "I thought you a day behind us..."

"Why are your men in retreat?"

"They—There's been some confusion, sir..." Lee began but fell silent under the withering gaze that Washington had leveled upon him.

"There remains some," Washington said with a knowing face, his eyebrows shooting up in judgment. "Why are your men in retreat?"

"Circumstance prevented a proper advance. And I did not think a major action was in the best interest of America at this time."

"You did not think?!" their commander roared, his lips curling into a tight scowl. "You damned _poltroon!_ You never tried them! You should not have requested this command if you did not intend to attack. Cornwallis only has 6,000 men with him! There were even _two_ men within your command who had experience fighting against the Rangers! You should have consulted them!"

Lillian narrowed her eyes at what her father just finished saying. _So Lee did request it? It wasn't because of her the command fell into his lap?_ Her eyes found Bradford's which his were locked on her person too, but looking to her father as well. _It was a trap… Lee is a bad fly, just as Ben said._

Ben even furrowed his eyebrows slightly at that statement as he realized that Washington was talking about Bradford's experience over the winter he had forgotten about...but who was the other – oh. He was the other one. His glance over towards Bradford told him all that he needed to know – Bradford had told Lee of the Rangers and of their ways of warfare, but Lee had dismissed it. Perhaps Bradford isn't all he thought he was.. _No, no time for that thinking_ , Ben thinks. _Later._

"What the hell are you about, man?!" Washington startles everyone's core when he shouts uncharacteristically. Lillian even let out an accidental loud breath, stunned at her father's voice level.

"I-I apologize, Your Excellency," Lee stuttered.

"To the rear, sir!" Washington ordered. Lee spluttered for a moment before Washington repeated his order, saying, "I said, to the rear!"

Caleb's piercing whistle of appreciation nearly spoiled the mood, but the shock coursing through Ben was great enough that he didn't even care. Lillian tried her hardest to cover up her grin at Caleb's sound—but it would be un-ladylike to react as so in front of all these men, and her father. She is also pleased that her _beardless_ whaler friend is alive! The Setauket spy ring can continue in one piece, that is if Caleb was able to bail Abe out of prison.

Ben saw Lee reluctantly hang his head before taking his horse away from those gathered. He would have watched the general leave in such shame if not for the strange small smile he thought he saw his commander give him. His brows beneath the visor of his blue and gold helmet furrowed for a moment before he realized that after all that had happened in the past few months, his commander had heard his words, had not been oblivious to the treachery that Lee had been planning – and had played his cards incredibly close to his heart.

The surprise that flooded through him as he sheathed his sabre was short lived as Washington briskly asked, "Colonel Bradford, how far are their cavalry?"

"Fifteen minutes, sir," Bradford answered taking his reigns and beginning to turn his horse around.

"I want both these detachments into the woods to ambush the nearer of their columns," Washington orders before turning to Ben. "Major, ride out to General Wayne, Smith, and Greene. Have them hold up the enemy while General Knox and I form a defensive line with artillery."

"Yes, sir," Ben smiles dazedly, nodding his head in disbelief of what is happening before his eyes.

"Major Jefferson, take your cannons and form an offensive perimeter. The rest, with me."

Flushed with eagerness and with the scent of victory in the air, Ben was among those whose cascade of voices acknowledging the order before he and Caleb galloped off to pass on the orders from their esteemed commander. It didn't take them long to arrive at the last position where Greene was, and as soon as he passed on the message, he saw Greene sagely nod his head before a small smile appeared on the general's face. Racing back to where his own men were, he found them with a relieved-looking Marquis de Lafayette, whom happened to be joined by a giddy John Laurens he had met last summer, and serious-looking Hamilton, the aide-de-camp who looks like he could be an 'appraiser' as well.

Lillian was nowhere to be seen near her father, but his Life Guard weren't with him, so he believes they were with her in the near tree line. Hopefully. Ben had to keep repressing the thoughts why her father brought her here, and attempt to hold down all the vomit of worries in his stomach he had of her being here. She could see him be killed.

But he will avoid that at all costs.

They reformed ranks and joined the slowly advancing lines from Greene's group. As they marched across the field to the drumbeats of victory, he saw the British lines continue to march forward, undeterred.

Ranks upon ranks of the Continentals fired into the hazy smoke that covered the battlefield. Ben could not see a thing in front of him as the lack of a breeze deigned to carry away the smoke as he slashed the bodies of Redcoats in his wake, not even able to look at all his surroundings or the Queen's Ranger's joining in on the fight off to the sides, and cannon fire from above it seemed.

* * *

Lillian is just outside the tree line nearest to her father firing cannons, but far away enough so that she is not in the way of all the men and away from the bullets until some of the wounded are brought to her Polly Cooper, and two other male doctors. They would tend to them as best as they could before return to camp. Both sides can't stay on the battlefield forever! But if that's the case, which doesn't seem like it would be today, they would have to immediately clear a vast space should the battle continue and bodies can be carried in by the most.

"Are you scared, Miss Washington?"

"Why would you ask such a question, Sergeant Hickey?" Lillian looks her left at Thomas Hickey, one of the life-guards of her father she knows the best.

He shrugs nonchalantly staring out on the battlefield, hardened eyes set on his smooth, pale face used to the scenes of war, "I only wish for your comfort. A lady should not be here witnessing the atrocities of war. Give the order, Miss, and we'll take you away from here."

"You were the last of people I expected to say that."

The other lifeguard on her right-side, Sergeant McPherson, chuckles fleetingly at this making her smirk once.

"I will not give such an order. I wish to stay should my use of removing bullets comes to play. Keep your heads, men. I feel, if I may say, will be a great day," in her mind she smiles off into the distance of watching redcoats fall or turn back eventually, and the blue coats begin to take up the field. Polly Cooper in that time came to get her and lead her to the wounded that have been brought in for now.

* * *

A great cheer rose in the air as Ben and his men rejoined the rest of their ranks, as they saw the rear of the British ranks start to turn and march away. Thick smoke still lingered in the air, but a refreshingly cool breeze that brought about the start of a late afternoon allowed them to definitively see the backs of the redcoats from what was left of their front lines. Men even shooting at them still as they yelled in great elation. Ben not only cheered in relief, but also in utter happiness with the rest of them. First Trenton and Princeton, next was Setauket, then Brandywine and Saratoga, and now Monmouth – Continental forces were now winning and slowly forcing British presence, no matter how much more well-armed, out.

Lowering his sabre, he looked over towards where Washington was, and saw a satisfied look on his commander's face. There was no smile or cheer in his commander's eyes, at least nothing that he could tell at this distance, but neither did his commander turn to acknowledge what he and the cavalry forces had done. Instead, he saw with disappointment, Washington turning to extend a hand out in congratulations towards Lafayette who was riding up. Following close behind the illustrious general was Hamilton, Laurens, and so forth – all of them had wide smiles on their faces as they too were greeted warmly by Washington.

"Hey, cheer up Benny-boy! We just won!" he heard Caleb say as he glanced down to see his friend amble up, face and clothes covered in a thick layer of soot, his hat having been wiped off his dark wavy-haired head.

One of the 2nd Continentals had taken Caleb's horse over to him and Ben waited for his friend to climb up before shaking his head slightly. "Yeah," he said, smiling slightly, "we did."

"Ah, Washington still ain't giving a time and place for your presence?" Caleb said, gesturing with a nod of his chin towards their commander.

Then a loud cheer, if not louder and more raucous than the one that had accompanied the retreat of British forces filled the air. He saw Washington gesture for the drummer boys to start their beating cadence, but it wasn't the taps of retreat that they played, but rather the taps of a victory march back to camp, and fifers for once bringing a proud smile on his face, and not one of dread or sorrow. They had won. Against all odds and then some, they had won.

* * *

Ben shook his head slightly as both he and Caleb halted their horses. There was quite a lively celebration going on within the camp for their victory over the British forces, but even with the victory, patrols were still to be had. He had been turned away at the entrance to Washington's tent earlier in the night, with Washington's manservant stating that the general was not receiving him. Even after all that had happened, his commander still refused to allow him to acknowledge his mistakes or at least attempt an apology (another apology) of sorts, and it had soured his cheerful mood considerably. It was those two looks Washington had given him that put him somewhat at ease: before they rode back out to fight, and after the battle he gave Ben such a distant stare.

With this thought he put all feeling aside and put on a confident and disinterested face. Thus, he had volunteered to go out on patrol while others around him celebrated. But not before sharing a quick peck on the cheek or two with Lillian behind a tree before he left. That was all the celebration he needed and wanted.

 _"Ben, are you sure you'll be back tonight? It sounds like a lengthy patrol after such a battle," she tells him worriedly with evidence of dried blood on one of her cheeks she missed wiping off. "I pray no more get wounded."_

 _"There shouldn't be anyone about after today's events. Even if there was we'll be safe in just my small unit. We're quick and silent," he reassures her just when a charming smile stretches across his face and he quickly if not silently bent down to kiss her forehead, and gently scraped off the line of blood before parting. His gentle handling not unnoticed by Lillian, who blushed red as the blood itself, but thanks to the cover of night, her blush is all but a shadow blending with the dark bags under her eyes. She had been through more than she ever had been in her life._

 _But her voice not tired, ever. Lillian called after him making him pause and turn back at her with a grin, "I will tell my father that he must see you. He truly was busy at that time, but he will do that no more."_

 _His eyes shown their sincerity enough, bowing his head shyly with a blush as she watched him walk off with perceptive eyes. He'd best get used to her interfering with him and her father, an act she does for no one else._

He had not meant to inadvertently drag Caleb out of his own celebrations with the mixed group of 2nd Continentals, but there had been no deterring his best friend from accompanying him. Now, with the initial patrol done and another small group out for a few hours, as much as Ben wanted to continue to stay out in the woods and surrounding fields, wallowing in his own misery, he was hungry for food and to act. There was fresh hard tack and salted meats at the camp and a certain two people who are a danger to the army and the Washington's. Why isn't he all too nervous over those two soldiers there without himself near the Washington's?

Well, last time he glanced, they were drinking. And one of them he will have his own dealings with _personally._

* * *

"Ah, Bradford. You survived," Ben points out stopping in front of the hunched over man. Having just returned from his patrol, he holds his helmet at his side while he pays no second glance over his shoulder at the man, now striding to the quieter parts of camp near the holding logged huts and tents filled with gunpowder.

"Disappointed?" Bradford asks sitting on one of the stumps furthest away from everyone. "Hey, where are you going? Come back here!"

Benjamin Tallmadge could not help himself but to feel overwhelmed with more proud swirling in his head and steps that his plan working out, a third of it for now. The lit torches burning wildly down his path made the tension grow if not more than the threatening anger in Bradford's voice.

"Come face me you stinking Judas!"

"Odd you should use that word," Ben comments as he is gripped by the shoulders from behind and turned forcibly around by Bradford, who's angered face was covered by Caleb from behind, and Ben answers Bradford's startled yells and cries with a single hard punch to his core, a punch with a clenched fist he held back for too long.

Moving his hand back to the pommel of his sabre in its sheath, and his brown boots take some steps back, he watches Caleb punch the Colonel in the face a couple more times before the man was finally down and numb.

"Go!" Ben told his friend, prepping to drag him off, as he himself made his way back to Washington's tent for the second—and final—time that night.

* * *

"I need to speak to General Washington."

"The commander is engaged with his family," Sergeant McPherson announces.

Ben looks away for a moment to gather his words, not expecting anyone to be with the General, _still,_ but at least it was his family, his daughter only since his wife had left, "Yes, of course. But if you please tell him I have some urgent news I have to discuss—"

"—the General wishes to see Major Tallmadge," William interrupts sticking his head out the tent. Someone had heard him. Ben, relieved, nods his head to the Life Guard and follows Billy in, and is greeted by the sight of his General and his daughter sitting off to the side, the latter looking down at a book she's reading. _The woman he loves in secret_ , Ben smiles to himself.

"Major Tallmadge, General," William tells George once both enter the tent once more and they face him. Lillian looks up startled, blushing at being caught unready to see her wonderful friend (returning soon as he said), not even hearing them walk in until William announced Ben's presence.

Ben avoids her eyes and stares at Washington who looks up from writing with his white quill and single candle burning near him, waiting for the Major to speak.

"Well, congratulations, General," Ben decides to begin wholeheartedly. "You've claimed the first victory of the year."

"It was the army's victory," Washington corrects him, "and that in the most forgiving sense of the word."

"We turned them, sir. We saw their backs," Ben reflectively adds watching the General's mouth slowly form a closed lipped smile and he meets Ben's eyes with a spark in them. "They won't soon forget that, and neither will we."

"A symbolic victory, then," George's eyes fall to the paper once more and scratches his quill to the paper once more letting a silence engulf the tent. Ben looks to Lillian who still stares at him with a raised eyebrow, and mouths 'what?' He responds by nodding his head to her, giving her a reassuring smile before turning back to her father.

"Your Excellency, there's something I have to ask you," Ben begins not expecting to be immediately answered by him, knowingly. _'To court your daughter'_ the intrepid part of his mind speaks aloud, but not this night can he ask this.

"How long did I know that General Lee was in communication with the enemy?"

Ben looks between William and Washington, surprised.

"Ever since you passed along the message from 3-5-5 in Philadelphia-"

"But, sir, you-" Ben is interrupted by his own interruption.

"—Merely had to wait for the proper time to deal with him, and with the proper amount of discretion."

Ben thinks a moment before the answer comes to him, "Like a public shaming?"

"Better he be court-martialed as a failure than as a traitor. There can be no security without secrecy."

Ben internally smiles, but his lips still quirked into a soft smile despite, pleased to hear this to his very core. But all seriousness returns quickly to the dangerous matter on hand, "Indeed. I agree, sir. The value of secrecy is why I've come to you tonight. I have news from Culper and your daughter's contact."

George slowly peers up at the major hardly believing him. William glanced the Major's way surprised, and expecting Ben's wary look which drops a second later. He is Washington's trusted manservant, he has without a doubt been around everything the General has been through.

"Why didn't she come see me?" Washington turns to his daughter who goes to speak but Ben cuts her off, speaking quieter than before.

"I'll explain those reasons real soon, sir, I assure you. It was for her safety and yours I told her not to speak of it to anyone." Ben paused, tilting his head slightly to Washington who bowed his head that meant he understood and for him to go on.

"Thanks to your pardoning Hewlett, Culper was freed and he maintained his cover. Now, he can't go back to New York, but that's no longer necessary as we have a new man in the city. Robert Townsend. We refer to him as Sam Culper, Jr," he reaches in his coat for the intelligence Caleb had given him after the battle. "And he's already provided proof of a conspiracy against you, sir. And its further proof of intelligence from Freddy, having arrived a week earlier."

"Conspiracy?" Washington asks coming to a stand with Lillian. She goes to his side as he receives the intelligence from Benjamin written by Robert Townsend, and he questions her, "And I let you come with me while you knew this all along?"

"Billy, would you call in the Life Guard, please," Ben silently asks William while Washington and Lillian exchange some words.

"I wasn't going to stay in the camp either way. You brought me with you for that reason. And my reasons were my own for leaving anyhow," she reminds him while gesturing to her bag of nursing tools resting on the floor against the other writing desk.

During a pregnant pause for but a second, the two men entered while Washington continued to hastily read the report, their bayonets clicking when they shuffled in and set the base of them to the ground in rest.

"Sergeant Hickey, Sergeant McPherson," Ben approaches them each in greet before turning back to Washington who now faces the three men respectfully. A nervous sweat breaking out on himself going unnoticed by them all. "Our new agent in New York overheard a conspiracy plot as it was being discussed openly in the heart of enemy territory. Now, he didn't catch the names of all the conspirators, but we do have one of them under guard, right now. It's Lee's man, William Bradford."

* * *

 **Lillian's POV**

My eyes widened at this even though a part of me knew it was either him or Lee who was conspiring against us. However, after all that Bradford had told me that one day that he'd keep me safe? Looking back and hearing his voice in my mind, they felt genuine enough to be believable. As for the day at Monmouth when I looked to him and he seemed just as uncomfortable as I was as they were being caught in retreat. But it could've all been pretending.

"But that day at Monmouth-"

"-I know exactly what you recall, Miss Lillian, but unfortunately it doesn't help in his favor," Ben's eyes hold every ounce of consideration for my words and sorrow for what he is about to say in front of my ears.

My father is the next to ask alarmed in his breathy tone, "Where are you holding him?"

"No, sir—I—I can't allow you to leave this tent for your own safety," Ben steps in front of my father, putting a light hand on his chest who attempted to walk past him. "Not until we identify the assassin. So, by your leave, my counsel is to have one of your Life Guard quietly escort Bradford here. Discreetly."

"I'll fetch him," Sergeant Hickey steps forward. It took every ounce in me to not throw up. Yes, that says a lot coming from a nurse who has seen some awful and nasty sights. It can't be Hickey, too! The man I always gave biscuits too that were extra, striking conversation with me… _oh dear._

The entire serious aura of the tent dropped after he left if not to a graver one, especially since Ben faced us once more with a toughened and grim face. His eyes bright with his own intelligence he is about to report.

"Now, according to Culper, Jr, the chief architects of the plot are Royal Governor Tryon and David Matthews, the acting mayor of New York _._ They're privately funding a cabal within our camp, right now, right here—under your nose. Miss Lillian—for your own and your daughter's own safety, Sir," Ben blinks looking in between us, correcting himself good mannerly in front of my father. "It has been found her contact had a source who was reassuring enough to tell them what was going on when said source was in the same area as Culper Jr. If it wasn't for Lillian's contact writing to her before I even received our courier's correspondence, we would have most likely not have caught the conspiracy in the act in time. It's all there in the report, sir."

"Which I'll be reading to its greatest detail after the conclusion," my father breathes out with an anxious frown. Now he paces back and forth ever so slowly, worried like the rest of us waiting for Sergeant Hickey to bring Bradford here. Until then, in the waiting silence once more but this time longer than two minutes, my father thinks of Benjamin's words (as he keeps casting thoughtful looks at the Major) while Ben and I shared a sweet, discreet smile, and it looked as if he was contemplating on saying something more.

But the brimming desire to say something in his eyes burnt out when Caleb walks in. Caleb, and not Sergeant Hickey…

"Sir. They're secure," Caleb chirped out to either both Ben or my father I couldn't tell. But I was too overcome with left-over nerves to care, and the separate feeling of butterflies underneath my stomacher from me and Ben's sweet eyeing.

"Make sure," George tells William who nods his head quickly and follows Sergeant McPherson out the tent leaving only us four.

"Unbelievable," I shake my head quietly staring into blank space thinking of all the times, many times Hickey had in fact escorted me places… but the most prominent one that stands out in my mind was that he was with me at Monmouth, near the tree line… He could've killed his fellow life guardsman and taken me to the woods to assassinate. He knows who I am… He knows everything about me… And I was a fool to tell him some things or yet let him overhear and not ask him to leave!

 _How could I not though he was my father's personal guard, his life guard! Guarding his life for two years now? Or more? Since I've been here at least, and he's been assigned to me on occasion! You're supposed to trust a guard! But just like nowadays… One can't trust anything anymore. The world is changing. Then… people's hidden motives never changed…_

 _Agh! But he was a guard that always secured our persons!_

"Sergeant Hickey," my father exclaims stepping in front of me causing me to snap out of my reverie and look at the three amazing men before me. Caleb looks as if he is holding back a big, goofy grin seeing me, finally. As much as I feel wonderful it is all working out, I feel guilty because I had my hand in this—I was nearly the one killed by my own blind hand, and my father as well!

"There are other charges they can be brought up on, sir. Counterfeiting, for one," Ben looks to Caleb briefly. "They can both be hanged and no one will ever know how close they came."

"Thank you, Benjamin..." My father said slowly, stirring me out of guilt and old fear. I had to look up at him to make sure I was hearing right, that he called Ben by his first name… humbly… so breathlessly and teary eyed, it made my heart pound against my chest with loud spouts of blood I feel coursing through me. _You did it, Ben._

Ben's own face shined with approbation and relief, and his eyes even glistened with tears, a look I could not forget especially when he turned to me soon after with a silky voice, "No, thank Brewster and Townsend. And your daughter-"

"And Woody," Caleb quickly adds, his thick northern accent showing through. "I mean, Woodhull, sir."

"So, 7-2-1," my father exhales quietly with praise. "Do you trust the integrity of the Culper Ring, then?"

"With my life, sir, and yours," Ben looks at His Excellency and the brave young woman next to him, teary eyed himself saying this vow, and oh-so thankful and elated. For a moment, he swore his mind flashed his life before him and he envisioned this same moment except on a day where he'd wed Washington's daughter. Only fulfilling his promise to them and himself more. He had no idea he'd find his true love during the war, at the war and in the camp. But, that's life. And he is fine with that if not proud that Providence had led him here to do just this.

Of course, it all piles into one another, he believes now. He must succeed at all if he keeps his faith and good heart, and a strong hand on the pommel of his sabre always. Sheathed or not. "As you said secrecy is the key to security. As long as the ring is secret, it is secure."

Washington bows his head agreeing, and turning to me. I nod my head once. "As it shall always be. It seems we have been thinking much alike, all along. And Lieutenant Brewster, thank you."

"You're welcome sir," Caleb grins with his usual playful glow radiating off him, but somehow, he remains to hold himself up as the reverential man he really is.

I wish I could say the same as my father. The deeper reality I exist in pours its scalding contents on my head, filling me with the sour feel of shame and trouble.

Yes, I have a lot more of growing up to do such as being cautious of the people around me and their hidden agendas (in the Continental Army camp!), and knowing when to speak or not. It's not like it can be forced, it must come and flow naturally. But after this I will indeed be a changed woman come morning. There will also most definitely be more mornings like it in the future, nights, or even during the day. There is no predicting the future, or the outcome of this war.

I can't keep this from Ben, as he finally looked twice at me and caught my frowning, thoughtful eyes. But I softly shake my head and tell him a hidden message in my eyes ' _later.'_ He nodded just when my father said something else of praise as he was multi-tasking listening to him and my silent words with him.

There definitely won't be any more of the different mornings I am used to, but I guarantee after this conspiracy I will slowly be held back from this duty of spying I am a part of. My security is first, just as Ben and my father, and mother, had said, whether I like it or not. But for now, I cannot worry about what's to come eventually. Perhaps, my optimistic side of my mind thinks, I can maintain my subtleness if not lesser for the likes of my family and Benjamin, and then I'll be fulfilling my call to not sit idly and just sew with the other women.

If there is anything I truly learned (so that my mind had absorbed it completely) during my time here this winter and through spring, is there is no trouble in keeping silence when one should and speaking when one should. It is the words that count, the tone that imparts and the moment that acquires it ever so truthfully. And the truth is what me and many other people are afraid of. Even my father. But the truth that there is a spy ring operating within our early country, and the truth that there are thousands of rebels against the crown, those are perhaps the scariest truths I am aware of. However, this may be, this spy ring will not be exposed, or its partakers, or will it fail.

And that is for certain, this time. No doubts.

 **A/N: End of Season 2! Finally, sorry for the delay. I've been absorbed in my busy life and then the recent TURN episodes planning the future conclusion of this story in my mind, which sadly will end just like the show itself... *sobs* Proofing this chapter took longer than I thought, I feel like a zombie now. Thank you for putting up with me this long. Please review, favorite, and follow! :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


	31. Chapter 31: Valediction pt1

**A/N: Did not forget this story or my wonderful followers! Thank you all for waiting patiently. Beginning Season 3 of this story now.**

 _"I hope I shall possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain what I consider the most enviable of all titles, the character of an honest man." -George Washington_

 **(~)(~) SEASON 3 (~)(~)**

 **Chapter 31: Valediction- Part 1**

A pair of freshly polished boots pivot across the floorboards while every single one of the discerning minds pounds with anxiousness in this logged lockup. The others who aren't moving a muscle stand off to the side to watch the exchanges begin to be made. One of those others being General George Washington, who decides to reach into his side coat pocket and briefly glance down at his timekeeper.

The punctual general doesn't seem to mind the minute delay of this interrogation because that lost minute was because a certain Major of the 2nd Continental Light Dragoons was vocal in his concerns of Miss Washington being present during the interrogation of which has a great chance of resulting into the Major using his own ' _renowned'_ methods… Methods that had in past got him court martialed for.

"Now we know that you received upwards of 100 pounds from Mr. Matthews, the so-called mayor of New York." Benjamin Tallmadge looks downwards into the eyes of the two tied up men sitting on low-seated chairs. He has been put in charge of interrogating Colonel William Bradford and Lifeguard Sergeant Hickey the following night after a well job done in catching them before the heinous act could happen—assassinating General George Washington.

Quite used to feeling all eyes on him now, but not all eyes. Benjamin still couldn't steady his racing heart feeling Lillian Washington's gaze on him. The refined woman must know that she is his undoing. He doesn't need to be blind to or ignore how she makes him feel anymore; not with how much they have already been through as well.

The Major's current flustered face is because of the silence of these two reprobates, but it is paired with a flushed pink tint dusted on his suddenly warm face because of the woman who holds his heart standing only five easy steps away from him. Simply, he can hear her every breath in this small shelter. He can see the ends of her dark blue dress with white lace trim brushing the ground every time he turned their way. Without meeting any of the people's faces, he knows they can see his battling emotions on his carefully composed face; but William Bradford's surreptitious smirk gives this interrogation a darker gloom.

Beardless Caleb interrupts Ben with his friendly Long Island drawl, but his tone sounding every bit condescending and bored, "-And Governor Tryon. Your pulse beats high in the Tories' game, gentlemen."

Sergeant Hickey shares a shortly lived venomous look with Caleb whilst Bradford looks down in hindrance.

"Now, tell me, who else in this camp is under British pay?" Ben raises his voice, irate at that, when Bradford peers up at him with a lop-sided glance the same sly smirk.

"What are you offering?" The Colonel asks seriously. His voice sounds a tad optimistic for the potential 'deal'.

"So there are others," Ben nods his head with a stroppy smile mimicking Bradford's same speech, dripping with sweet sarcasm before losing the smile in a flash. If a storm could be personified, Benjamin would be the thundering soul of it (Lillian thinks for but a second watching on in silence). "The offer is that you hang for a counterfeiting, not for treason."

Lillian swallows nervously seeing that the questioning is unfolding. The hairs on her arms stand up feeling herself catch a drafty chill. This was unlike any unruly patient under her care or a maddening brother teaching her young niece inappropriate things like obscene drinking songs.

Now she can officially admit she has never witnessed such a stressful and frightening talk. She never dreamed she would truly partake in one except for the potential interrogation with Robert Rogers, should he ever be found. _Now I don't think I want that for sure… I'm completely sure…_ she resolves with herself. There's no telling what to expect or how she will walk out of the tent.

The end results no matter what happens in this interrogation dawns on her finally…

 _"Ben, it's all my fault! I was so stupid to not think that far—" Lillian did not break into a sob, but her voice cracked and went hoarse out of complete fear and shame feeling embarrassed to have not intelligently thought things through, and to appear weak once more in front of Benjamin. After what she looked like the night before in General Washington's tent with a need to say something, he went to call on her first thing in the morning. The moment he was granted permission to enter her quarters without an overseer, she dove right into confessing this guilt she feels she has._

 _"No. It's not your fault…" He is silenced by her look and her spastically waving arms not rested on his chest as they previously were resting on. "Well, maybe a little—"_

 _"A little?" She asks a tad bit louder than expected. "He was eventually granted permission with Sergeant McPherson to walk behind me and my mother and were rotated on nights we had tea parties. My father was in the adjoining tent at those times. Tea parties! Talking about my past, my old family name which hardly ever comes up except in a Continental Army camp of all places… and home, of course."_

 _Ben takes her hands in his, soothing her with a set face of utter poise and alike voice that surprises her every time she looks his way. "No one else will find out. Lilly, it will be fine. You did nothing wrong, nothing you could have prevented. The two of them will be hanged immediately and should we find the co-conspirators and others plotting against your father—or you—they will hang as well. It'll end clean."_

Hickey interrupts heatedly, "I wish to hang for treason! To mutiny against you traitors is an act of honor." Ben's hand strikes the man's cheek, silencing him, and he grabs the man's chin tightly, jerking his face up to meet his sweltering blue eyes.

Lillian flinches next to her father in the back, standing right behind him but to his side viewing the onslaught. But goodness did Ben's ferocity feed the fond fire burning ever so brightly in her breast. He is a man and force to be reckoned with.

It took much convincing from Benjamin to both stubborn Washington's that this is no sight for a lady to watch a potential awry interrogation, but this involved them both as the father and daughter were targets of assassination, and their presence (the General himself indeed) could provoke clear and conclusive answers when the perpetrators are being questioned. Even though Washington could have stood in Lillian's place just fine, she insisted as well as he. She had no qualms in standing in this very logged hut with three other men and the other two tied up to chairs. In a way, it was for her honor's sake. She could possibly be apologized to by the two men who slighted her integrity and planned to kill her. If the perpetrators could do just that, there's a small chance of forgiveness from being hung. _Small._

Benjamin did not share in her optimism.

"If you hang as a forger, your family may escape reprisal," he spat at the clueless man not knowing what he's asking for. "If you're marked as an assassin, I cannot-"

"-We aren't going to hang." Bradford interrupts, now, the exasperated interrogator quickly lowers his hand to his side while Sergeant Hickey roughly jerks his head away. Ben stares at Bradford confounded, waiting keenly for him to continue.

"You're going to trade us."

Ben scoffs slicing the air with a throaty chuckle. His eyebrows quirking upwards with the corners of his lips as he glances a look to Caleb and Lillian finally, before outright frowning with them all once more when his heart drops hearing what Bradford adds.

"For Culper and Kennedy."

"Where did you hear those names?" Caleb's voice cracks breaking the suffocating silence by asking everyone's dreaded question, his place sitting on a barrel also creaking when he stood.

When Bradford doesn't make to respond but smirks in reply, Caleb temporarily loses his nerves and in one step he was behind Bradford, roughly grabbing the lower tuft of hair on the man's neck in a tight grip.

"Where did you hear those names?!"

"Enough!" Washington steps forward with a furious frown but speaks ever so evenly. "Sergeant Hickey must have heard the names while standing guard outside my tent."

Ben shakes his head violently, sighing purposely loud as he began to pace to clear his thought process once more and form a suitable question that doesn't sound so suspicious to ask the men when truly they are all suspicious of _them_. Caleb pulled back the Colonel's head once more in appearance to break his neck, but the whaler stood down obeying orders, stalking back to the barrels in a daze.

"Outside your daughter's tent and bedroom in past camps, more like. Sometimes the door was open, when I was given order to fetch her after being granted trust to do so."

"Poorly granted trust, Sergeant." George's voice interrupted the ranting man with anger and guilt.

But Sergeant Hickey carried on as if the General said nothing. "-And I already know the Kennedy Tories who had a brother in law who died, and she was abandoned! You're her, ain't you?" Sergeant Hickey, with the evilest leer in the entire world, glares bullet holes in Lillian's head, who's face remains neutral as if she is with a misbehaving patient. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, her heart races painfully and tears threaten to leak from her eyes. It was as if her worst nightmares were coming true. Well, they are. How could this stranger know that?

"There are many Kennedy's in the world. That is but a little grit to form that denouncing opinion of me," she finds her voice and spoke plainly.

"Miss _Washington_ , if I may," Bradford speaks soon after, clearing his throat at her last name clearly emphasizing it. Ben, Caleb, and George Washington too staggered now, but Ben knew all three of them were ready to lurch forward should the man, both for that matter, would say anything else _denouncing_ of the sort. He wasn't expecting Lillian to rebound so quick.

"I had no knowledge of you being this _Lillian_ Kennedy until now. That is, if you are." He looks at her the same as he did before he rode back off to the battlefield at Monmouth. Uncomfortable, ashamed… "And if you recall me telling you on a routine spring checkup that no trouble will ever meet you. That I'll make sure of it—"

 _Lilly's hands went back to Ben's chest during his supposed words of comfort, which her heart accepted gladly, but her racing mind couldn't just yet, "Benjamin, was that intelligence accurate? About Bradford? He looked guilty at Monmouth."_

 _"Of course he was guilty. Yes, his name was on it. Clear as day," he whispers down to her with inclusive eyes. "I couldn't have seen anyone else but him especially after what he had said of your person that winter."_

 _"All along." Her lips trembled but her voice gained some of its strength back._

 _Ben's hands clasp above hers and tighten, worried if she begins to tear up once more she will fall to her knees before him. She had no knowledge of Bradford being one of the soldiers who talked poorly of her person and her father that night she wasn't in the camp years ago. "I know what he said to you recently, yes, maybe he meant some things, but protecting you we will never know. I'm all the protection you need. He is no good. He committed treason. Lilly…"_

 _"It's not like that. He—what if he was innocent? Just a pawn? It doesn't settle right with me for some reason. A riot could break out at the killing of an unsuspected soldier."_

 _"Yes, there could, but it won't be anything we can't control or haven't had already. It will settle right because he wasn't innocent. He was still all for killing your father, that's what I'm trying to make sure you understand." He reminds her. "Everyone knows his sidings with Charles Lee, and speaking of him, have you seen him since the battle? I sure haven't."_

 _"Right. Right," she casts her eyes off to the side in thought while Ben continues holding her hands._

 _"And believe me, men know who is who around here, save for the handful of innocents we do have."_

"—Oh but you were part of the assassination plot for her father? Beg and plead all you want you pissing tori bast—" Caleb interrupting Bradford gets interrupted by Lillian just as loudly.

"That is true," she steps beside her father, and looking to Ben for permission to speak further. Awkwardly not her own father, but Ben subtly nods his head sensing the oddness as well. If it weren't for the moment, he would've made a face and asked for her father's permission, but he was the one in charge of this interrogation presently. "But who is to say, Colonel Bradford, you were distracting me from the major plot at hand? Lying to me?"

"Not that you're already distracted by the _major_ with his hand up your skirts between your tight plot. He—" a loud, cracking punch on Hickey's jaw cuts him off from uttering more of the comment before Bradford could form a reply.

"Saw that coming," Bradford mumbles, spitting at the man's feet beside him. The punch all too familiar he had received from the same man the night after their recent victory. Except not in his face, like the first fist fight, thank goodness. But the crack sent a pain in his chest from said punch he remembers so well. His own even more. Benjamin was shivering blue, without his coat, covered in bruises. A sight Bradford may yet see again. "And no, I wasn't distracting you, Miss Washington."

Ben staggered back beside Caleb with a shuddering and livid breath, staring at General Washington with fervent assurance that he had never inappropriately acted upon his daughter as unseemly the man said. He had enough sense to hold a seething Caleb back just for now, his right arm over the whaler's torso while his left hand returned to its resting place above his sabre's hilt.

Washington dismissed the fallacious comment but looked upon Hickey with a fiery and challenging look.

"But lying?" Lillian asks Bradford again, ignoring the current evil man in the room. She is trying to give this man a chance to redeem himself. "Did you lie to me, Colonel Bradford?"

The man licked his lips and inhaled deeply. When he made movement to speak, nothing but silence was heard.

Her father speaks up before any other man could in her defense, letting the Lifeguard's comment go and moving on to find out more. "The first man to tell me the true name of our Agent Culper will be traded to safety on Saturday. The other man will hang tomorrow."

The wind whistles outside the log walls and roof in the swallowing silence as Washington bites his lower lip in slight anticipation, his eyes only gaining their fire in fierce ferocity of what could've happened, and what can still happen if he doesn't act now.

Lillian stares at them with the same leveled face as her father, but with expectancy from Bradford who finally tears his eyes from hers, looking to the ground with a silent sigh. In a split second her face contorted to one of illness. No amount of tea, a bad cup of coffee, or ginseng root can help her current state of mind. She feels sick.

"They don't know."

Squeezing her lips tightly shut as would do in anger and holding down a light whimpering sound in her throat, her eyes move across the room to meet Ben's hardened, elusive blue eyes staring only at her. His mouth in its usual straight, firm line. His _protective_ face.

 _"It wasn't your fault. We weren't cautious enough with choosing the proper men for the job. Sergeant McPherson was questioned just for safety, and he is sound," Ben informed her taking her face in his hands trying to calm her. "Another will take Hickey's place soon and I severely assure you he will not turn against you all."_

 _"As long as you say so, I believe you. You are head of intelligence for that reason like I need to keep reminding you of that." Lillian laughs to herself. "You know who did right or wrong. Severely wrong."_

 _Both of Ben's hands cup her face now. A heated blush on the back of his neck forming when they both catch ear of footsteps outside Lillian's tent. Her words easily making him blush else where's; she is the only woman to straightforwardly do so with such true abiding love._

 _"You, Lilly, are severely right." He smirks when he elicits a giggle from her as he withdrew one of his hands and placed a kiss on her hand._

 _"Don't get too proud like General Arnold, now!" She calls back behind her._

 _He let out a laugh watching her go to leave the tent when one of the servants came to gather her._

 _"I promise you. No one can be as proud as him."_

* * *

 **Valley Forge**

The sound of a beating drum pounds in everyone's ears. Ben stands in the pouring rain wearing a regular black tricorn, his black cloak… It was after all his common attire. The color black for such an event is to be worn if able. The dull colors of many in this camp was fine enough, even if it was the only thing on their backs. He was grateful to have some sort of hat other than his dragoon cavalry helmet—he felt no honor in wearing that for today.

"The accused, Colonel William Bradford, and Sergeant Thomas Hickey having been found guilty on the charge of attempting to pass counterfeit bills—"

On the other side of the door of a logged hut her father currently stands right outside of, Lillian can hear the procession from inside the shelter. The rain muffled most things said, save for the neighing of horses and the drums, so she wouldn't have to sit in a part of the house where she couldn't hear a thing.

She does take some steps away from the door because she feels as if she is eavesdropping too much. Plus, she can't stand right in front the door that will soon open in her direction and she could be hit by it. But then she remembers why she stayed nearest to the door.

She glanced at the movement in the adjoining corner where the auburn-haired Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton was standing in front of the small open window with billowing curtains, watching the executions unfold.

Alexander Hamilton had heard her steps, her smaller heeled boots clicking against what wooden boards were placed above the earth to hold her father's desk. She's the only woman that would be in here also.

He looked Lillian's way and met her big brown, distressed eyes. Both of their faces registered one another with looks of understanding, both chilled to the bone was well as the rest of the camp, but at least not literally chilled to the bone from being rained on outside. Lillian merely bowed her head politely for disturbing his silence before walking past the desk and to the back of the log house leaving a forlorn Hamilton alone once more, who sighed to himself as he has been doing much lately. He had lost count of how many sighs escaped his lips and he soon came to realize he could let that one thought be erased. He didn't need to keep track of his sighs of sadness or her steps walking further into the house and away from him…

"- _My aim was to kill Washington_! _His daughter, and Putnam, and any other_ -" Hickey yells out before he is kicked off the platform, the noose so tight around his neck and the action so quick he is decapitated by the pressure. It was as if no one was hung on his side of the platform. No one was hanging from the noose.

Bradford is wide eyed at the sudden beheading not meant to happen. In what final seconds he has left, he looked on emotionless at the crowd, spotting a dutiful Major Benjamin Tallmadge at last, but let out a startled yell when he too was swiftly pushed off and began choking on his own spit and for air, struggling to grab the noose around his neck to save himself.

The crowd gasping, shouting and looking away in alarm at the unexpected instant death, save for Bradford who still shakes with life like a fish on bait.

 _"Have you no mercy!"_ The Reverend shouts in protest _. "You! Are you mad? What's wrong with you!"_

 _"Get off me!"_

Ben gulps tightly, his pious heart aching at the greater horridness of the scene, and the reverend scolding an already disheveled Caleb which turns into a tussling match in the soppy mud… it would've been worse if these guilty and conniving men still lived.

The sun unblocked from the rain clouds during this time made the hanging all the weightier and wrong. This unnormal but completely normal occurrence happening on this day was strange indeed, but who is to worry about the weather during war? Unless it is a snow storm like back in Valley Forge or the great eclipse of the sun which occurred days before leaving for Monmouth.

The feeling that it felt wrong, just as Lillian thought, but the fact that it is right had trouble settling in Ben's mind until finally he simply just thought of her. At times, he forgets he can do this freely he is so caught up in his duties and responsibilities. He only must refuse to let thoughts of her show on his elusive face during the rest of the war. He has a position to uphold and a troop of men to protect and a spy ring along with his own self. He does not have the freedom to speak freely of his desires out of life.

 _"And thank you for defending me. Punching Hickey, Ben," Lillian tells him with a grateful heart after the interrogation. They all left the log hut and walked further and further away from the impending doom of the two perpetrators. "He was awful to say that."_

 _"He was. And he was wrong," Ben's warm left arm wraps around her waist, pulling her to him in a tight hug ceasing their walking all while watching her father and Caleb walk ahead. The sheath of his sabre nudges against the folds of her dress welcoming her into his embrace._

 _In her ear he speaks softly, "Think of his words and him no more. I told you I'll keep that promise of enforcing men to not speak so low of you should they ever again, even if my life has to be paid to keep you up high and safe, Miss Washington. Lillian… my friend… and my love."_

 _"I pray it shall not come to such." She whispers back intently. "And none of those other men matter to me or what they think or say. All I need is you to not do so, then I am perfectly fine. We were blessed to have met. I think that all the time," she then smiles into his thudding chest, smelling his distinct smell mixed with earth from not bathing, and smoke from a fire. His once rough and shaking hands, now placed on her delicately, put the deepest parts of herself ablaze. The more and more they get to know one another, being around one another and seeing how they act, the undeniable love they have for each other becomes more ostensible._

 _"I would never. Me too," he responded. No matter what she says he would most definitely defend her and deal with whoever speaks of her with any malice._

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please!" Washington shouted over to the two men wrestling in the pouring rain and wet earth, quite expected, but immediately the General gave the nod of approval for one of his men to click his pistol and shoot Bradford, officially killing him off. The bubbling foam in the man's mouth settling.

The gunshot echoing in the storming rain not going unheard of by anyone, especially Lillian inside the cabin towards the back, squeezing her eyes shut at the awareness of it all.

 _"Vengeance! Vengeance!"_

A pair of boots stomping through the small house on what little wooden floorboards there are, she hears the carpet scuff and the only man inside let out a disgruntled huff.

"Miss Lillian… Did you hear any of that?" Alexander Hamilton asks her worriedly having remembered being told by her father of her sensitivities to death.

"You and your graceful footsteps or the massacre outside?" she tries to quip with her panicked tone.

Immediately rebuking, he scoffs with a frown dismissively, "It wasn't a massacre. That is a brutality completed in cold blooded decimation. This was capital punishment for their crimes against the army of our nation."

"Then why were your footsteps not graceful? No comment?" She now asks with a smile but remaining standing against the wall, playing with the fabric of her dress skirts. This man could lighten up if he'd allow himself to. And if he were smart, he'd realize she was trying to distract herself from the current events outside.

"I wish I could comment but I would be wrong to not be ensuring your well-being. You have gracefulness even when you're flush against an unpainted wall of wood."

 _He's lightening up some at least_ , she thinks. But looking down at this, she feels some defensiveness at his 'fond words and tone' towards her. Pushing herself off the wall she goes to speak up ending his further flirtations even if they were said distinctively by him and did make her heart skip a beat still. _A little._

"If you wish to ensure my wellbeing, Alexander, will you please kindly tell me what the yelling was about?"

Shifting in his stance, he reached for a wine glass on the only other wide table in the log house and poured himself a glass, looking down at the glass and back at her with focused, disturbed blue eyes.

"I believe your friend who sails on the whaling boats to reach the man with the intelligence was in a dirty tussle with Reverend Worthington," he responds letting out a laugh once. "The Reverend was the one doing most of the shouting before yet more rumors began to be uttered."

"Not everything you hear people utter is rumor. Some of that is disbelief or exclamation," Lillian replies walking closer to the table, about to pass him by to go greet her father about to return inside. But Alexander stops her with his arm reaching out to her, grabbing her arm gently, missing her hand.

"You're more than familiar with different people who converse, all differently. And haven't you been told to ignore rumor more than twice now?" she murmurs liltingly, looking up into his eyes thanks to his larger heeled boots and her smaller ones. It was a perk being taller than most of the short women of this time, but still maddeningly uncomfortable being able to have leveled gazes with most of the men around her. If Alexander had ceased wearing boots, and her own little heeled ones, they would be equally face to face.

"By you and your father that is all who I will mention," he muttered under his breath in annoyance. The sparkle in his eyes around her and her parents, anyone he has a high liking to, exudes brightly with the sparkling glass in his hand. "Now where are you off to without escort? Are you sure you are well?"

But the sparkle in Lillian's own eyes shone brighter just before she spoke. She was about to say something that has been foreign on her tongue for quite some time, "To greet my father back inside before setting out to find my escort Benjamin… to ensure he is well too—"

"—That rumor, is it true?" Alexander coughs clear and smooth into his shoulder while looking down at her with a single eyebrow risen. "Not that I care… or do I and I just have no understanding of the amiability pertaining to you and the _Head of Intelligence_ …"

"What rumor?" She could only ask right when the door across the other side of the log house opened, the rain splattering inside and boots quickly entering by the multiple.

Looking towards the door catching her father's smile she returns, she frowns when looking to her arm at Alexander's hand still on her which he slowly let's go of. He never answered her question either. It did not bother her though because she can imagine what this rumor is all too well.

"You were never one to stand rumor. Perhaps when you can stand it, I will answer all your questions," she whispers to him. Not having to warn him of watching his mouth since he is aware of the further security they must take on the dealings of spying. "It's surprising you were capable of believing this potential one without sounding adverse."

Finally letting go of her arm, not able to reply, Alexander stares behind his wine glass after her, who went to hug her father as she said, and greet the men with him before setting out in the pouring rain to her escort. Her escort the Head of Intelligence he has been working with for some time now. But never has he had a one on one _tête-à-tête_ with him. There was always someone around.

* * *

Lillian immediately catches sight of Benjamin Tallmadge standing not far from the log house she just exited from. And just as immediately, Ben's face of pure sorrow and pensive thought washed away with the wet rain drops on his face to a gentle smile at the sight of her. Even with his hat on he still managed to get rain in his face.

Seeing she was making it to the last of the steps to the house's entrance, and it was sopping mud just waiting to catch her feet and cover them with it, Ben shook all his previous distresses away and went to her straightforwardly, took her hand, and lead her to take a longer step over the sopping mud to a harder part of the ground.

"Thank you. I didn't know it'd be this dirty out here already," she exclaimed with a blush and a swooning smile of course looking up at the Major who won her heart. Despite the current air around them after a public hanging of two men, there were still women shuddering with fear and speaking their woes to anyone who would listen. If they were married, their husbands were with them offering comfort. As for the soldiers themselves, many shook it off and went about their duties that were being dealt with before the drums began to roll. The other men were consoling with the Reverend who was in the most rage over the awful hangings.

Benjamin had let go of Lillian's hand after helping her avoid some serious mud and returned his hands behind his back as they walked along the center path of the camp to some tent. It would either be her nurse tent, the officer's tent where they planned and discussed war tactics, or one of the log houses like Hickey and Bradford were imprisoned in.

"I would take you up in my arms if I could and carry you myself to shelter, but that would not look right I fear," Ben breathes out nervously, blushing himself under his hat which did well at hiding it with shade casted from the brim of his hat and the clouds getting darker above.

"That won't be necessary anyway. I enjoy walking in the rain even if it ruins my hair…" her voice trailed off, remembering she spoke exactly this to Ensign Baker. Then she wanted to catch Ben's expression which was blank. He was looking at her waiting for her to continue, but there was nothing more to say. "You know… some women's hair is finnicky, and some women's hair is hard to manage after just having it styled."

"You had it styled?" Ben asks making her laugh at his supposedly hurtful question. "I mean—it—it looks fine—you look—"

"Oh Ben! No, it wasn't styled. Not by a professional anyhow. Young Ashley isn't that well with hair like Maria is," she tries to contain her laughter but to no avail. Only being quieter in her talking. "Most women, myself included in that most, have problems with frizz after a rain shower dampens their esteemed locks."

" _Esteemed_?" Ben let out a chuckle as he repeated her. His eyes are now the brightest of blue she has ever seen them, and it warmed her entire being that it was because of her presence.

But she looks at him as if he grew a second head, "Yes, _esteemed_. I am _the_ Lady Washington's counterpart… _daughter_ … in the fashion mode of society. I should be wearing a hat, but I felt like wearing a hood today. It's gloomier than I expected."

"Of course," he understood her intention on wearing a hood over a hat. It acted as a veil. Unless he was wrong on that too. "Are you alright?"

She nods her head, "Yes. They are mostly colorful anyway. Not a day to dress nice on."

Ben made to correct himself because he was asking if she was alright after the hangings, but he decided to dismiss that talk believing she didn't want to discuss it. It was improper talk with a woman after all. _Damn._ Maybe this was why she is avoiding the subject. _Benjamin you fool!_ He thinks.

"I didn't know you had a liking to fashion like your mother," he asks like he learned something new, which he did. "You dress yourself up very well, which I should have assumed long ago that you like fancy gowns… It does explain how you always make yourself look presentable at any time showing without any effort the elegance you were born with."

"I try. And thank you, that's very kind of you to say. But yes, I do like and have a fair amount of dresses and shoes. Goodness the shoes! My mother is worse with so many purchases I assure you… Now you," she changes the subject. "Is this what the Major of the 2nd Continental Light Dragoons adorns when he is out of his dashing uniform?"

"It is all I wear," he comments with honesty. "Being an old headmaster of a school was quite boring so, boring clothes fit that role very well. Not all that boring I should say. I shouldn't talk that administrative role down. It was a blessing to have got that profession, but little did I know it was to lead to another blessing working in _this_ profession."

Benjamin and Lillian grow quiet for a short while, just looking each other's way as they walked. Their eyes had met and stayed locked on one another's for a whole minute leaving them both a tad warmer than the weather currently. It was no wonder Ben had been given the job as a Headmaster of a school. His well-rounded leadership and fidelity is his entire person. Those two traits coincide with kindness and faith, then the rest of his wonderful traits follow, including his spirited blue eyes.

"They aren't boring at all, though," Lillian tells him now in reassurance. "Neither are you. I can see how some parts can be boring. My old headmaster always looked jaded and grim because… well he was quite old to begin with when I first started studying there.." Benjamin laughed genuinely at this. "And then he was always talking with other superintendents and teachers. Improving the school every day was his intention-"

"-Precisely. It's a hard achievement to get. Students can hinder that.—" Benjamin interrupted shortly, nodding his head.

"-And he did it. Many meetings and enforcing code and rule all while supervising. I mean he allowed me to get an education to begin with," Lillian smiles in distant memory of school days. She is even imagining this fine major next to her being her headmaster. "He never even tried to hinder my attempts in furthering it."

"No one ever should. That is your right, and one day it will be everyone's," Benjamin remarks with strong will.

"So what did you wish to talk about, and where?"

"In your tent would be the best. It is a public tent for your patients to come in so that would… be wise," Ben says carefully, not quite happy to be returning to the ill tent once more, as it was not exactly a space for them to be alone in, but Lillian took his tone another way. The odd, depressing day only hit her harder when she saw some of her patients sitting outside with no shoes on and bloody feet. Three soldiers with shoes on were staring directly at her walking with Benjamin.

"I apologize, that was wrong of me to assume we went anywhere else but… It's improper." And with that she walked ahead of him in the drizzling rain, holding her hood closer to her face with one hand as the wind blew past her.

"Lilly!" He called after her and hurried to follow her. His sword was still strapped to his side even if he was wearing a different set of clothes.

"Lilly, I didn't mean it in that way." Ben caught up to her just before she entered her tent, speaking quietly. "Forgive me. What had you running ahead? Certainly not what I said I hope."

She turned to face him, holding her hand down with much effort from pointing, "Only one fourth of these men have shoes. And here I was talking about all the shoes my mother has, and I, and there were some patients right there with bare bloody feet. I need to get them some bandages now."

Benjamin sighs in accepting his downtrodden emotions. He steps further into the tent with her and watched her start grabbing cloths and bandages just as she said.

"That.." He squeezes his eyes shut. "..is not your fault." Then he shakes his head and reassures her. He knew all too well how uncomfortable she feels now. "Don't feel bad about yourself. They didn't hear you. And believe me, they have people looking after them and they are surviving. They'll get new shoes soon-"

"-Don't just say that," she shakes her head at his positive words said for her sake. "Alexander and my father have been petitioning for Congress for money since '76. I'm sorry, this was supposed to be our moment of peace for once and here I am…"

"No, it's fine. We'll have to plan a better day for it next time," Ben takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly. "But I am severely right too, remember? It's all going to be taken care of. The groups of women taking donations are receiving shoes and socks at this moment. Their care package will arrive by the end of the month my sergeant told me."

"You know more than I do. Why is that?" She asks feeling dumb now.

"My sergeant receives different reports than I do, so I'm informed what I am not told. And Caleb gossips with me," Ben sighs like he doesn't want to speak of it. His eyes shine with sarcasm though. "But now, I may as well just ask for the hell of it before some patients come in. Have you heard from your hair stylist, Freddy?"

"Not since he warned us of myself being discovered," she answered with a sigh as well. Hers numb and worried. "I was planning on visiting him but both you and my father made to avoid that altogether."

"You will be the last person to ever set foot in New York. Until Abe comes through, Caleb, Mulligan, and 355… then maybe myself—"

"—Breaking the law of Mr. Sackett of having the handler directly involved…-" Lillian interrupts actually pointing out the flaw of his grand idea. Her forefinger taps his black clothed chest gently with the bandages held in her hand. Then catching something off, she reaches up to brush some raindrops off his hat and adjusting it on his head. He never bothered fixing it entering her tent and brushing against the top of the entrance.

"—only then would it be you." Ben tilts his head towards her endearingly. He then takes this hand from his hat and raises it to his lips, grazing her dry knuckles with a long, needed kiss. His eyes yearn with hers for a better area to sit in and for a better place to be to be able to talk forever.

"Well I guess that leaves us with one last thing to talk about for today. I spy someone coming this way now. _Headmaster_ ," she jokes. "What were those days like? Just before the war?"

"As I said during our lovely walk, which I'll look back on every moment until we genuinely meet again, I said it was a blessing to have been offered both professions, both blessings themselves. But during those school days upholding my status," he takes a small pause in real consideration of his own words. His brow even furrowed as he wasn't so sure of the words before he spoke them. They just flowed out as they always have to Lillian, like a gorgeous, shining river.

"They were all individually different and secluded in their own calm way. It was a calm before the storm, certainly. Whenever I was in my office, I'd think deep just like I am now. There was always a feeling in my breast that was of providential significance. So then I took up the mindset more seriously that every one of those days was a blessing. Then the night of the crossing of the Delaware happened… that thick fog appeared out of nowhere and stalled the British troops from spotting us."

Lillian's lips smile warmly at his continuing response of her small question. He is indeed a storyteller and devout man just as Caleb told her. When he had said he would think deep in his office, it reminded her so much of her own self! A chilling realization comes to her now. All that time sitting on the East lawn underneath the shelter of the veranda during a rainstorm and thinking deep… during that time Benjamin was a headmaster. It is a silly thing to think of, but just maybe they were at one time staring at the same rain falling and thinking deep. Maybe it was their souls meeting before their eyes ever did?

Forgetting all those thoughts until she was in the comfort of her own bed for the night, there is now a commonality between them that she just learned, and it is something she will never forget.

"Your father even spoke of it aloud. That night was a miracle. Even being able to retrieve my favorite horse-"

"-your favorite horse?" Lillian allows her teeth to show in a broad smile. A hand goes to her mouth in surprise. "You never told me you were close with your horse."

"Yes I am, but I'm getting off subject now. Lillian," Benjamin gathers both her hands creating a serious and tender warmth between them. "Those days of being a headmaster was all a thick fog all up until we met. Then it all made sense."

Lillian looks into his eyes with many heartfelt tears beginning to form. However she went right to wiping the corners of her eyes because a soldier made his entrance known by clearing his throat.

"Thank you for asking me that, Miss Washington. Until we next meet," Benjamin gives her a small wink of his eye since his back was turned to the soldier who came in. It didn't help it made her break into a shy blush of infatuation which the soldier caught and held back a forward question.

After Ben had left, Lillian went right to helping the soldier who took his place on an empty cot.

"Now why do you come to see me?" She asks.

 **A/N: I'm back! This chapter is in two parts because of it being the beginning of season 3, and there's a lot about to happen at just the start of this season. Maybe I'll give away a little... America's favorite fighting Frenchman will have a chapter for himself. After all, he was close with Washington and stayed at Mt. Vernon countless times. Surely Washington's daughter finds a brother figure in this young man. The next update is coming up. Thank you, and please stay tuned :)**

 **-BrownEyedGirl87**


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